


Entries for Challenge Three: Fuck or Die Apocalypse

by Anonymous



Category: Merlin (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 110,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entries for Challenge Three: Fuck or Die Apocalypse for summerpornathon 2013</p><p>Voting post can be found <a href="http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/91924.html">here.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Group A (warnings)

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing and warnings included in chapters 1-4.
> 
> Chapters 5-8 are repeats of chapters 1-4 without pairing and warning information.

**1.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** slight dub-con, some punchin'

"Fuck. You."

Each word is distinct as it's spat out at Arthur's feet, joining the rainwater puddled there.

"Well, generally, it's the other way around, but—"

Arthur had not been expecting a stunning right hook on a guy so slim.

But, then again, he thinks while he's bent over, palm on his jaw, this is _his_ mate.

He straightens, blinking the rain and sting out of his eyes, and looks at the furious man in front of him. "This isn't my doing, you know."

"It isn't."

"God, do you really not—" Arthur doesn't know where to start. "I'm in the same boat as you. Well, not exactly the same, seeing as I've always known I—" He stops, frustrated. "Okay, let's start with the basics: I'm not going to hurt you."

Merlin snorts. "Fucking right, you aren't. It already hurts. Ever since you—" He gestures vaguely. "You know."

"Yes, and I'm sorry about that, if I'd've known you'd been raised not knowing I would have been much more—" He shrugs. "Subtle."

"Lie number two."

"Okay, fair point. God, you're—"

"Watch it."

"No, I—" He exhales roughly. He can see sweat on Merlin's skin, his body responding whether Merlin likes it or not. Which is understandably a big not, and Arthur's chest hurts with it.

He takes a few steps forward, his posture calm and open. "The reason it hurts right now is because when I kissed you, something happened. Something called Imprinting."

"Bullshit. That's _Twilight_ -inspired bullshit that tween girls tell themselves at slumber p—"

Arthur turns and takes a few steps away, feeling the tear in his gut. When Merlin grunts in pain, he stops and turns.

Merlin's face – Oh, it's awful. He finally believes Arthur, that's for certain. He looks crushed, angry as fuck, and vulnerable as hell.

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" He retreads the ground and then some, getting as close to Merlin as he can, feeling the ache turn into a new kind of burn— He reaches out, and Merlin flinches but leans into it all the same. Arthur ends up cupping Merlin's neck, pulling them together until the heat– 

The rain isn't even touching them.

Merlin's voice shatters the moment. "So that's it?"

Arthur pulls back just enough to look at him. "What's it?"

"I'm just… stuck with you?"

"Hey, it's not the worst match you could've asked for." He stands straighter. "I'm very well-off, you know."

"Oh, lovely, I'm cosmically bonded to a rich prat in a polo. Do you even _like_ boys?"

"That hardly matters anymore."

"It totally matters!" Merlin throws his hands in the air momentarily. "And it's all going to prove very awkward, you know, most of the time. Not to mention my mother will never forgive you."

Arthur can't help but laugh. "Oh, Merlin." He kisses Merlin again, deeper this time, and the heat rises until hands find jean fastenings and slip into pants. "Mothers love me, for one." He concentrates, then strokes a finger just where Merlin wants him to, and drinks in Merlin's surprised gasp. "That, for two."

"How—"

"Imprinted. Like baby ducklings, only—"

"Only—" Merlin circles Arthur's cock with his fingers and twists nearly roughly. Stars explode behind Arthur's eyes.

"Yes," he breathes, quickening his own movements. "And third…" But he's cut off by his own body because _this_ —this is more than he's ever experienced, it's too much, it's like he's on overload, and when he comes with a shout, he knows that both of them have, all over their rainwashed fingers, and his skin feels tender, raw. New.

"And third?" Merlin says quietly, his voice wrecked.

"And third," Arthur says, clearing his throat. "We could walk away now. For a while. Now that we've—" He gestures between them, then spots his hand. He holds Merlin's gaze as he passes two slick fingers over his lips, then reaches to do the same over Merlin's slack mouth.

"Oh, God," Merlin breathes, a look of wonder on his face. "Arthur, I don't—"

Arthur cuts him off with a kiss, his heart thumping in his chest. "Me neither. Trust me. Me neither. But we have jobs, and, as you said—" He smiles crookedly. "Awkward."

Merlin's smile is reluctant, guarded, but there nonetheless. He hesitates a moment, then leans in to initiate a kiss himself, and Arthur feels languid heat slip through his veins. And he is, for the first time in his life, at peace.

* * *

**2.**

**Pairing:** Percival/Elyan/Arthur/Merlin/Leon  
 **Warnings:** dub-con

**The Curse**

Merlin frantically leafed through the books they had dragged from the library. There had to be a way to break this curse! Frustratedly, he tossed a book aside and reached for the next, just looking up shortly, seeing that Percival was still lying on his back on the table, being fucked by Elyan. 

He grit his teeth, knowing that the knights were doing their best to save their friend. Unfortunately they had killed the perverted witch who’d thrown the curse or else he’d force her to reverse it. 

Hearing Elyan grunt out his release, he jumped up to check on Percival again. 

“Did it help?” Elyan panted while he tucked himself back in. 

Merlin shook his head. “No change.”

Arthur was pacing the room, looking highly uncomfortable. “This was meant for me. Why did he jump in the way of the curse?”

“He’s a knight of Camelot, Sire, he’d do anything to protect his king.” Gaius shuffled into the room, shoved another book into Merlin’s arms, “Here, my boy,” and then checked on Percival. He threw Gwaine a look. “What are you waiting for? You know there’s only one cure for this, get to work!”

Gwaine’d already stroked himself into hardness and now positioned himself to shove into his friend, not minding that Gaius was still taking Percival’s vital signs. 

Arthur stepped close to Merlin. “Found anything?”

Merlin threw him an impatient look. “Not yet. And it won’t go any faster if you insist on asking every two minutes. You’d better prepare yourself, he took the curse for you, maybe that’s the way to lift it?”

Arthur’s cheeks flushed, but this wasn’t about being shy, this was about saving Percival. The witch had made it clear, he needed to be fucked good and hard or he wouldn’t survive the night. As king, he was responsible for his men, he needed to do everything he could to ensure that this curse was lifted. So he pulled his shirt over his head and tugged his breeches down far enough to take Gwaine’s place once he was finished. 

Gwaine didn’t even bother to tuck himself back in. “Will be ready for a second go if needed. Just…” He sat down nearby.

“What about you, Merlin?”

“What about me?” Merlin didn’t even look up, busy scanning the pages. “Oh, wait! Here…”

Arthur didn’t stop fucking Percival, who only gave some weak grunts while Gaius cooled his forehead with a damp cloth. “What? Tell us, Merlin.”

“Only his true love can reverse the spell.” Merlin looked up, totally lost. How were they supposed to find Percival’s true love before the night ended?

“Alright,” Elyan stepped forward, “it’s obviously not me. And not you either, Gwaine.”

Gwaine crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Maybe if I try again?”

Arthur groaned as he came inside Percival. “Looks…,” he panted, “as if I’m not the one either. Merlin!”

Swallowing hard, Merlin got up. Percival was his friend, too, so he started to shed his clothes, fully aware of all the eyes in the room turned on him. It didn’t seem right to do this to Percival when he was too far gone to object. And with everyone watching. But he needed to do his part to at least try to save him. So he closed his eyes and pretended he didn’t enjoy the hot come-slick opening that surrounded his prick. He found a steady rhythm and it didn’t take long before he came. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw Gaius’ worried look. Damn. 

Without a word, Merlin stepped back and let Leon take his place. 

While he tucked himself back in and grabbed his shirt form the floor, he watched Leon carefully positioning himself, running his big hands over Percival’s chest. He had to strain his ears to understand what Leon was whispering. 

“Come back to me, Percival. Please, don’t leave me here all by myself.” 

And then the big knight was making love to the one on the table. He wasn’t just fucking him like the others had, he rolled his hips slowly, caressing the weakened man, pressing little kisses on his sweaty skin. It took a while, but slowly Percival responded. He moved with Leon, rising to meet each thrust, groaning loudly and finally coming in unison with Leon. 

Merlin looked worriedly at Gaius, who started to smile when Percival finally opened his eyes. Cheers erupted in the room and Gwaine muttered about having to go to the market to find the right wedding present.

* * *

**3.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** omega-verse, knotting, dub-con due to fuck or die, underage implied

Arthur immediately recognises what he’s stumbled upon. He’s heard rumours of the barbaric practice still occurring, but he hadn’t believed it could be on Camelot’s soil again. Omega Runs have been banned from this land for more than twenty years.

“Sire, scouts have spotted a dozen more men, armed with ropes and little else, sniffing their way through the forest.”

“Arrest them all. I’ll find the omega.”

\---

The omega’s clever; the entrance to the cave he has chosen is infested with blooming carrion flowers, but Arthur’s senses are keen. There is a reason he’s known as the best hunter in the kingdom.

The minute Arthur steps into the cave the previously faint scent of the omega consumes him.

Scent has been a part of Arthur’s life since he was a boy, learning what it means to be an alpha. He uses it to hunt game, to check his food for poisons, to check his knights for fear or deceit. He uses it to find interested bedmates.

Arthur’s never smelt anything like the boy huddled in a corner, trembling at the realisation he’s been found.

Unmated omegas are not permitted within Camelot’s walls. They are disruptive. And a king tricked by the allure of an omega could put the entire kingdom at risk. Mates make a king vulnerable; his father had instilled that in him early.

“You’re safe now,” Arthur says, keeping his distance. Sweat already begins to prickle the back of his neck as he fights the impulse to touch, to claim. The draw of an omega in heat is more than he’s ever prepared for. “You are free to return home.”

“Can’t,” the boy gasps. “Herbs.”

Arthur leans closer, letting the fading light from the cave entrance spill upon the boy’s face. He’s drenched with sweat, his short black hair spiking, his blue eyes bright with fever. It’s not fear that has him trembling. Arthur doesn’t need to look to know that the boy’s breaches would be sodden.

Reaching forward, Arthur touches the boy’s forehead. “The herbs,” he whispers, “did this to you?”

The boy curls himself tighter, his face flushing an even higher colour. Herbs make sense; they ensure that even if the omega escapes the Run, he’ll die from the heat fever if he doesn’t mate, taking the secret of the illegal Run with him.

Arthur kneels beside the boy. There’s little more than an arm’s length between them, though it feels like too much. “What’s your name?”

He startles, clearly not expecting even this much courtesy. “Merlin.”

“Merlin.” Arthur resists asking how old. He’s old enough to go into heat. “You understand what I have to do?”

He looks so young as he nods. “Do it.”

\---

Nose pressed to Merlin’s cleft, Arthur licks at the wetness there. It’s sweet and heady. Arthur’s dizzy with it already. Merlin’s shoving against Arthur’s mouth, making a high-pitched whimper as Arthur tentatively spears his tongue at the already loose, waiting hole.

Arthur does it again and again until his face is sloppy and Merlin’s begging turns into sobs.

How he’d ever resisted such pleasure is beyond comprehension. He feels the danger; he would give his kingdom for another taste of this. Only he knows, he _knows_ this boy who melts so sweetly under his touch would not ask such a price.

He mounts Merlin like an animal, jerking his hips and pushing in gracelessly. They are both too desperate for gentle touches. He thrusts deep, letting the heat and omega-slick surround his cock like nothing else has. There’s a feeling in his belly, a warmth shimmering inside him that can only mean one thing, but he doesn’t stop. His cock plumps at the base: a knot he knew was possible but never once experienced starts to form.

This is what his father hid from him, what the laws of Camelot fought to protect him from.

His eyes fill with the wonder of it.

He clings to Merlin as they lock together, reaching around to fist Merlin’s cock like he never wants to let go. It’s glorious when Merlin finds his release, stretched wide around Arthur’s knot.

The warmth in Arthur’s chest settles to contentedness as they fall asleep, heartbeats in sync.

\---

They wake to the sounds of Arthur’s men searching for them.

“What are you going to do with me?”

Arthur nuzzles Merlin’s shoulder and thinks of waking up like this every morning. “I guess I’ll have to keep you.”

* * *

**4.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Gender-bending, Reincarnation

 

"Let past reflect now,  
and love prove it's vow.  
If once loved as before,  
then love you all the more,  
but if false love with only his eyes,  
the fair Merlin in this life dies.  
To make sure the king is true.  
no speaking shall you do."

The woman lowered her hand with a lopsided smile. "Not my best work, It's a little Ursula-esque but this should teach that stupid husband of yours not to insult people. Besides if it works you'll both be happier. Then again if it doesn't you'll be dead, but considering it's you two, what's a little death between lovers, right?"

Merlin struggled against the restraints. "What did you do to me?" Merlin tried to ask but no words came out. 

"You are as you were when you first met Arthur." The witch looked at her watch and clicked her tongue. "And you only have six hours to get him to make love to you." 

~~~~

The smooth muscled plane of skin felt so different beneath Arthur. Again, he had to remind himself this was Merlin. 

That afternoon he looked everywhere for his wife. Instead a young mute man, nearly a boy, had shown up wearing his wife's wedding ring and her all too precocious smile. 

Arthur let his hand slide up over a nipple the way he had done hundreds of times before and just like always, Merlin's stomach tightened, her…no his, hips rose up in response.

"It's really you." he whispered into the throat of the only person he ever loved.

At first, of course he didn't believe it. Merlin might have been wandering around saving small animals or trapped down a well. As the walking embodiment of trouble, she already accomplished both in central London, but then the boy with big ears and a mess of dark hair made his crystal blue eyes flash golden. 

Arthur pressed another kiss to Merlin's neck. This time he mouthed over the slightly tell tale raise of masculinity. He'd never been with a man like this. It never even crossed his mind to try it since Merlin had always been there.

His beautiful Merlin had been his first and only love. "Still so beautiful." He whispered along a more defined jawline. Merlin turned his face away, playful, bashful, confused. There was always something about Merlin that made Arthur need to know the rest of the story. Did, being like this make Merlin uncomfortable, or was _he_ relaxed in his new form and just worried about Arthur's reaction? 

His ears stuck out a little more without the longer hair, maybe Merlin was self conscious about them again. "I love you." Arthur nibbled at one knowing how sensitive they were to touch. He let his hips push down at the same time slipping his cock next to that of his wife's… husband's. 

Fuck pronoun's and descriptors. This was a his wife Merlin, and he was amazing. Merlin arched his back in response and forced his hard length back into Arthur. 

The fast paced moans escaping with each exhale and the taught pull of every core muscle told of how close Merlin was to climax. 

"Really _Mer_ lin? Premature ejaculation?" Arthur teased while pulling away.

Merlin smacked him in the arm with a very expressive eye roll, then tried to pull Arthur back down over him.

"Hey, you're the one who filled my head with images of witches and death. I'm doing my husbandly duty and preventing you from coming like a school boy to save your life darling." 

Merlin rolled his eyes again, before they flashed golden. Arthur's mind was filled with images of himself climaxing repeatedly all over Merlin's new body.

"Bastard" Arthur shivered, his arms shaking holding up his weight. Fuck and now he was moments from orgasm too. "You think I'm holding back because I'm about to go off?" Arthur narrowed his eyes at a now nodding smirking Merlin.

"You're right. The thought of coming all over this body and inside it…" Arthur grunted. 

Merlin never shied away from anal or any other sexual proclivity. In fact Cocobutter Wednesday's were a favorite for them both, and Arthur prayed with all of his heart that his wife restocked their favorite lubricant. 

As per usual Merlin never let him down. 

A short time later as he fucked into his wife while stroking her cock, Merlin moaned out his name and it was the most perfect thing he had ever heard.

* * *

**5.**

**Pairing:** Leon/Merlin, implied Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** non-con in that one party is too drugged to consent (i.e. non-con in the way sex-pollen always is)

Among the things that Leon is good at are the following: not looking at Merlin’s throat, not looking at Merlin’s wrists, and not looking at Merlin’s tongue.

One might think that the last is quite easy, seeing as Merlin’s tongue is inside his face and not generally visible, except that Merlin is often talking, but also, more distressingly, licking his lips while eating.

In any case, Leon has developed considerable skill at not looking at these areas of Merlin’s body, or indeed, most of Merlin’s body. That way lies danger.

Oh look, there’s danger now.

“Leon? Leon, okay, keep your eyes open. Just hold on. I’m going to take care of you.”

Merlin’s eyes are absurdly large. Like nuts. Or those big quail he and Elyan caught last week. Large, round, and tasty.

“He’s not making any sense,” says Merlin.

“I told you, he drank all that pink stuff.”

“Well, why didn’t you stop him?”

“It’s not my fault if my knights want to go protecting me.”

“Shut up, Arthur, I just need to—”

Oh that’s better. Leon suddenly feels much better. The fuzzy nausea roiling in his stomach abates to a hot, pleasant tingle pooled in his groin. Something warm strokes up and down his thighs and cock, and it makes Leon sigh with relief.

“Leon, I don’t know if you can understand me, but that pink potion has made you ill. And this is all going to be very strange, but we just need to work it out of your body.”

And there’s a wash of gentle touching that Leon loses track of. For awhile, everything feels luxurious and agreeable and also a bit like pinpricks.

But then, quite unexpectedly, Leon’s hands are on Merlin’s behind. Christ. His hands fly away, but _fucking fuck fuck_ that hurts, and his hands fly back again with a resounding slap.

“Ow. See. Just. Just, keep your hands on me. It’ll help.”

Leon is going to be assigned to guard duty for goddamned _years_ for this. Arthur is going to catch him with his hands down Merlin’s trousers, and he is going to be stuck guarding that cell where they throw all the drunks. He will smell of stale mead and forever be known as Leon, Knight of the Drunks.

“Right. I’m going to put your cock in my arse now.”

“Oh my god,” someone else says.

“Well, turn around if you don’t want to watch.”

Everything is a sort of roiling, pinkish haze, but Leon becomes aware that he is not wearing any trousers at the same moment his cock is put inside something extremely hot and squeeze-y.

“Squeeze-y. That’s great, Leon. That’s the loveliest compliment my arse has ever had.” Merlin’s voice is breathy and thin, for some reason, and it takes Leon about a dozen thrusts before he realizes that it’s because he’s _fucking Merlin_.

He blinks his eyes five or six times and looks up to see Merlin’s face, open-mouthed and shiny, his eyes still alert with the professional gaze of a physician.

“Hello there,” Merlin says triumphantly when Leon manages to make eye contact. He bounces on Leon’s prick a few more times. “You seem to be doing better. Would you like a kiss?”

“Yes, please,” Leon says, raspy, and Merlin leans down and lets Leon have his fat bottom lip to suck upon while he fucks up, up, up into Merlin’s behind. The world around him grows clearer with every thrust, and Leon falters when he realizes that someone is shifting about nervously just a few steps away.

“Arthur?” Leon manages when he recognizes the expensive boots.

Arthur makes a noise like a dying cat and doesn’t turn around.

“Don’t mind him,” Merlin says with a kiss to Leon’s collarbone. “He’s busy being scandalized.”

Leon makes an immediate and valiant effort to apologize, except it comes out, “ _Nnngghhh_ ,” when he comes in painful jerks up the grip of Merlin’s arse.

“There you go,” Merlin whispers soothingly.

The blanket of trees above him come into focus, the leaves crystallizing in his vision as they shiver in the breeze. A twig breaks off to his left, and Leon very carefully does not look at the King.

Merlin’s still sitting on his cock, smiling. “Don’t worry,” Merlin says. He goes up on his knees, slowly, and Leon’s cock drops out with a slurp. “Arthur’s very grateful. After all, if you hadn’t drunk that potion, it’d have been him in your place!”

Arthur growls. Leon whimpers.

* * *

**6.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** destruction of an entire planet, survivor’s guilt

The day the world ended, Merlin wasn’t even on Earth. _The Excalibur_ had just finished its three-year mission and was finally returning home when the comet entered Earth’s orbit, as shown on the ship’s screen.

Merlin’s entire body seemed to shut down for a moment in shock before his brain caught up with what was happening and immediately began calculating the damage. Not that there was any need; a comet hitting Earth was an ELE.

First, the atmosphere itself would burst into flames, and then the impact would cause the sun to be blocked out, causing a winter that would last for likely centuries. The lucky ones would die in the initial blast. The others had no chance of survival.

By the time it struck, Merlin couldn’t even bring himself to watch, instead burying his face into Arthur’s shoulder as the impact sent out shockwaves large enough to rock their ship even as far away as they were. They would need to start the engines again soon, to avoid the debris that would inevitably fly their way.

But for that moment, he stayed where he was, silently sobbing as he felt Arthur’s arms come up around him, holding him close.

-

The mission had been a short one, all things considered, and _The Excalibur_ was a small ship. There wasn’t anyone else on board but the two of them.

“There are probably others,” Arthur told him, once Merlin finally calmed down enough to talk about what happened. “I know Gwaine had been set to leave not long after us. Guinevere and Lancelot had a longer mission than we did. And those were only people in our garrison.”

While the thought was comforting, it didn’t change the fact that almost everyone he knew was now dead. His mother, his father, his best friend, even his neighbours...

Arthur had lost people too, but Merlin knew that Arthur was trying to stay strong for his sake.

“I wonder if they even realised it was heading straight toward them before it was too late...”

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice was firm but kind as he reached across the table to cover Merlin’s hands with your own. “Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t hate yourself for being alive.”

“This ship wasn’t designed for us to live on it past the extent of the mission. Eventually...”

“We’ll think of something, Merlin. We always do.”

-

They fucked that night, slowly, Arthur moving on top of him and pressing soft kisses against his skin, caressing him gently, as if he were something fragile that could break.

Maybe he was, Merlin thought. Humanity had all but gone extinct but he was still alive, Arthur showing him just how _alive_ he could be.

On the surface, it was simply comfort sex, but Merlin knew it was more than that, something intimate between two people who had lost everything. He lifted Arthur’s head and kissed him tenderly, trying to express how much he appreciated the gesture.

They were not alone. They had each other. There were others out there.

And maybe, one day, life would find a way.

* * *

**7.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** sex while intoxicated

Without asking, Gwen slid a shot glass down the bar. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" Arthur shouted over the throb of the club music. Goddamn Sidhe DJs.

"You need to get drunk, boss. You need to dance, you need to get laid, and most importantly, you need to stop glowering and scaring away the twinks who want to order overpriced fruity drinks."

"I'll have two of those, sweetheart," said a scruffy, shirtless human at Arthur's elbow.

Gwen shot him a dubious look. "Your tab's already more than you can pay, Gwaine."

"It's on the house." Arthur said, gaze fixed on the man close by Gwaine’s side. "Hello, Merlin."

"Hello, Arthur." Merlin gave him a bright smile, lit by the glimmer of magic. Merlin was on the pull tonight, irresistible. "Thanks for the drink."

"Oh, you two know each other?" the Gwaine person said.

"I own this place," Arthur said at the same time Merlin answered, "He's my ex."

Merlin lingered after Gwaine pushed back onto the dance floor. “Sorry. I don’t really know him, but did you see what he’s packing in those trousers?”

“I’m cutting you off,” Arthur said.

Merlin’s smile turned soft. “It was good seeing you, Arthur.”

He brushed a kiss against Arthur’s cheek before turning and dancing away. Arthur deflated onto the bar with a groan. “I don’t understand why he still comes here so much.”

“I don’t understand why you both don’t just say you’re sorry.” 

Arthur fled to the dance floor.

The sweat and endorphins left him happier and a bit turned on. But then he spotted Merlin again: with the hobgoblin known for troll-magic party favors. Merlin slipped something into his mouth before Arthur could do more than mutter, “Oh, fuck, not again.”

By the time Arthur caught up with him, Merlin was grinding a massive erection against a puzzled but appreciative were-bear in leather. “Please help me,” Merlin was moaning as Arthur detached him. “I’m gonna die if I don’t come.”

"I know, baby. It's really kicking in now, isn't it?" Arthur gently steered Merlin away toward the loo. "Go on, splash some water on your face.”

He sighed with relief as Merlin went in. Then he remembered that other men were also probably in the toilets—and why. “Oh, fuck.”

When he burst into the loo, he found Merlin stark naked in a stall, front plastered against one of the walls—the one with the gloryhole, of course. A grinning bloke was just going into the adjoining stall when Arthur’s fist twisted in the back of his shirt and hauled him out.

“Sorry, closed for maintenance,” Arthur snarled and locked the door behind him. 

Merlin was gripping the top of the stall and kicking it in frustration. “Why did you stop him? He said he’d save my life.”

“Oh, I just bet he did.” Arthur reached into the stall and pulled Merlin away from the hole. “Goddammit, Merlin, you do this shit on purpose.”

“Please,” Merlin mumbled into his shoulder. His body rubbed against Arthur’s, which reacted to him as it always had. “Gotta let the magic out, or I’ll die.”

The problem was, there was a remote chance it was true. Arthur’s hands trembled a little as he held Merlin; his cock kept swelling until he gave in to the inevitable. “All right, baby. I’ll take you home and fuck you all night, if that’s what you want.”

“No,” Merlin insisted, pulling away from Arthur and feeding himself back into the gloryhole. “Here. Now you don’t even have to look at me if you don’t want to.”

Arthur had to laugh. God, how he’d missed the sheer absurdity that was Merlin. He kissed Merlin’s shoulder and then went into the next stall and knelt down. The first taste was heaven.

Sucking him through the hole was awkward; he couldn’t clutch at Merlin’s thighs or arse, or cup his balls the way he liked. But the way Merlin’s moans echoed along with the thump of his fist against the stall made Arthur harder and harder. 

Finally Merlin let out a long, relieved groan as he shot his load into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur swallowed, then hauled himself up to sit on the toilet, dazed and aroused.

He didn’t notice Merlin’s cock withdrawing until he found himself with a lapful of nakedness. “Thank you,” Merlin said and kissed him, deep and sticky. “You’re still my hero.”

Arthur shivered and pulled him closer. “You’re still my—“

He couldn’t finish the sentence. But Merlin just laughed and slid down to kneel between Arthur’s thighs. He looked up at Arthur with clear, happy eyes, pulled out Arthur’s rigid cock and looked at it with exaggerated concern.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll save you.”

* * *

**8.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Mentions of viral infection, barebacking

The world as they knew it had ended.

The viral infection had spread worldwide like a wildfire; travellers had brought it from one country to others until the governments had realised the situation, and one by one they had closed all the borders and declared a state of martial law. There weren’t enough healthcare workers or medicine to take care of all the sick, and since the disease was incredibly infectious, people had moved to their own little communities far away from centres of population to save themselves and their families.

All public life had stopped. Many people had seen their loved ones die of the disease only days after they’d been infected, and they were still scared that the virus lived on somewhere. That maybe it had mutated, maybe some people had it without even knowing about it themselves. Everyone avoided human contact with strangers, with people who might still carry the virus and pass it on.

Merlin had stayed by Arthur’s side the whole time.

Arthur had easily become the leader of their little community. It was he who led the missions to gather more food and other supplies they needed to survive, and everyone listened to him when it was time to make decisions. Merlin wasn’t his second in command, not even close, but he was almost always by Arthur’s side and was perfectly happy with the place he’d taken among their group.

Especially since more than one girl in the camp would’ve been interested in sleeping with their leader, but every night, without a fault, it was Merlin Arthur went home with.

Maybe it had just begun as sharing body heat during the nights and both of them being unable to fall asleep alone after all they had gone through, but now... Now it was about Arthur’s hands searching for warm skin under Merlin’s clothes and Merlin catching his lips in a bruising kiss, before they fell on the bed as a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothes. It was about them not giving a damn about protection, because it didn’t really matter when their life expectancy was so low anyway, and using whatever they could find as lube just so they could forget everything else for a moment. It was about the cries of orgasm that were a nice change for cries of pain or grief or anger.

It was feeling just a little bit less broken, because they were broken together. Fucking each other didn’t heal the wounds they had, neither did any of the emotions or closeness they shared, but it helped to deal with them just for one more day at the time. Even when days turned into weeks and weeks into months, the nights were what kept them going, made them want to survive just a bit longer.

The thing between them was based on traces of the friendship and desire that had once been, but now in light of everything else had turned just a little sour, a little toxic, a little too co-dependent. It was about sharing the sadness and the loneliness with one another, and sometimes arguing but never letting go of what they had, because the thought of facing this new world alone was too much to bear.

Merlin knew that despite all the other people living in the community, they only had each other left in the world. Wherever Arthur would go, Merlin would at least try to follow, be it a mission to gather more food or a battle for their continuous survival or death.

But then, that was just how the things were now and that was how it was always going to be from now on.

* * *

**9.**

**Pairing: Gwaine/Percival**  
 **Warnings: Dubcon due to sex pollen**

Percy’s not really sure what to think. People don’t just suddenly go into a sex craze because of a _plant_. He’s still not even sure how they figured out it was because of a plant but he’s not in the right headspace to ask. Not when there are much more important things to focus on.

“You need me to do _what_?” He asks again

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose as Merlin gives him a sheepish smile.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Perce,” Leon says from somewhere behind him. “Go in there and fuck him before he dies!”

Percy feels his cheeks heat up and looks down at the floor, avoiding everyone’s gaze. A hand settles on his shoulder, warm and comforting, and he knows it’s Gaius before he even turns to look. Gaius pins him with a grave yet understanding gaze.

“The effects _could_ be deadly,” Gaius admits quietly - a detail they hadn't given before - and how is Percy supposed to argue against that?

He doesn’t want to know who all is watching as he walks slowly down the hall nor does he want to know _how_ they look. Even the slightest hint of mockery in their expression would be his undoing and he can’t afford that; he has to do this.

For Gwaine.

Because it’s Gwaine hiding away in the bedroom at the end of the hall. It’s Gwaine who found himself experiencing the unexpected consequences of smelling a foreign plant. _Gwaine._

This wasn’t the way their story was supposed to go, he can’t help but think as he lets a hand settle on the doorknob. This wasn’t the way they were supposed to come together.

It makes him impossibly sad to know but he holds back those thoughts and the feelings that come with it; he has to be the strong one now. He has to be strong for Gwaine.

The smell of sex hits him as soon as he opens the door, stronger than he anticipated, and he pauses in the doorway more out of surprise than anything. A moan from the bed brings him back to reality a moment later and when he looks, he feels the air leave his lungs.

The blankets have been kicked completely off and the sheets are a complete mess, bunched up around Gwaine’s naked, writhing body. He has three fingers in himself and is moving his hips in a fast, graceless motion. He’s desperate.

Percy lets the door shut behind him and though it doesn’t slam, it’s loud enough that it catches Gwaine’s attention. He twists his upper body to look and when he does, Percy feels his stomach churn.

Gwaine’s eyes are wide and glassy, almost frantic, his face flushed; he looks _drugged_. It’s not right. None of this is right.

His feelings must show on his face because Gwaine blinks and his eyes are a little bit clearer when he says, “ _Percy_.”

It eases some of the tension in Percy’s chest, enough to where he can shake his head and walk to the bed. He sheds his clothes along the way because there’s no point in playing dumb; the way Gwaine watches him avidly should be flattering, should make him smug, but it doesn’t. How can he be sure what’s real and what’s caused by the plant?

How can he know if Gwaine really wants him?

When he’s near enough, Gwaine pulls his fingers out and practically launches himself at Percy. He wraps around Percy’s body, biting at his lips, and Percy’s hands scramble to find purchase on sweat-slick skin so that Gwaine doesn’t fall.

“Fuck me,” Gwaine whines. “ _Fuck me_.”

They fall on the bed together, Gwaine moaning when Percy’s stomach rubs against his hard cock. Everything that happens next is a blur; a memory that Percy hates but doesn’t want to get rid of. Kisses and moans, slick hands on his cock and then the incredible heat of Gwaine’s body as he pushes in. He tries to keep as quiet as possible during but Gwaine is too far gone to do any such thing; he cries out, shouts, his begging getting louder and louder the closer he gets.

One time isn’t enough, it turns out. They fuck until Gwaine’s exhausted, until his body can’t take anymore, and then he falls asleep, aching but sated. Sleep won’t find Percy for hours more.

He mourns the beginning they’ll never have and prays that Gwaine won’t hate him when he wakes.

* * *

**10.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Druids made them do it, or Arthur will die of heatstroke! Dub-con accordingly 

This was all Merlin’s fault. If he hadn’t insisted on tagging along with Arthur and the Knights to track the reports of Druid activity in nearby towns, this never would have happened. Granted, they would all be dead, but at least Arthur wouldn’t have been tied up to a pole in the middle of a hayfield, in full armor, on a hot midsummer’s day. Glad though Arthur was that Merlin talked the Druids into letting the rest of the Knights go, the King himself would rather be dead at this particular moment than endure one more hour of this torture. 

“This is all your fault” Arthur stated. Merlin was tied to the same pole as the King only he, the gangly oaf, had somehow managed to get his shirt off before being so restrained. At least the idiot would be sunburned, Arthur thought. 

“What?” Merlin protested “I _saved our lives_. If I hadn’t insisted on coming along this mission, you’d be dead!”. 

“Exactly.” Arthur replied, calmly “I’d be dead and therefore _not_ dying of heat torture at this very moment!”. He felt Merlin’s wriggling, which had been a constant since the Druids had tied him up against Arthur’s pole (and it was _Arthur’s_ pole, as he’d been tied to it first), come to a halt. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin sighed “I didn’t know they’d take us _here_. These Druids, they’ve had a difficult summer. The crops haven’t been doing well, it’s been too hot and too dry.”

“Tell me about it,” Arthur grumbled. He already knew as much, having had to traipse around repeatedly in full armor in the same climate. 

“There is something we might do, though,” Merlin said. Arthur felt him start to move again, as if it were impossible for the man to stay still for _five minutes_. “It’s normally performed at Ostara and Beltane, but I think they might appreciate it if-”

“ _Merlin_ ” Arthur was quick to cut him off. He knew enough about Druids to get where this was heading “Are you talking about a fertility ritual?”

“Yes,”

Arthur sighed. He had heard about such things. 

“Just...tell me we don’t have to get Gaius for whatever it is and you have a deal,” Arthur said, feeling defeated. The heat must really be going to his head. 

“Oh, thank the gods yes! I mean no! No Gaius,” Merlin spoke quickly. He yelled out to the Druids who rushed to Merlin’s side,untying him. 

“Just relax,” Merlin said, as he kneeled on the ground in front of Arthur “Relax and look at me,” he said, long-fingered hands reaching for the laces on Arthur’s breeches. 

“Merlin, what are you-” Arthur found himself unable to finish the thought as Merlin yanked and suddenly felt his nether regions exposed to the hot summer air. It wasn’t like he’d never thought of this before. It just hadn’t been quite so...public.

“The elders will kill us if we don’t, Arthur. You have to understand-”

“Fine. Can we do something about _them_?” Arthur asked, nodding toward the gathering Druids who were looking on eagerly. If this had to be done, so be it, but a monarch ought to at least merit some privacy? 

“Oh, them,” Merlin smiled, glancing toward the Druids and back toward Arthur with coy eyes “They’re not here,” and Arthur found himself believing his manservant as he was suddenly enveloped by the tight perfection that was the other man’s mouth. Arthur closd his eyes and moaned. He thought he felt a breeze stir through the hayfield, but that might have been his imagination as Merlin’s tongue was currently doing _wicked_ things to Arthur’s dick and this _just might_ be a dream after all. 

“Tell me this is real,” Arthur found himself saying, breathing hard as Merlin worked his way from the base of his cock back to the slit, and down again. 

“Mmm” was the only response Merlin could spare him, and Arthur moaned again as he felt the corresponding vibration course through him. He had been dying of heat, and now he was dying of pleasure. It was long until he felt all his muscles go taut, hips bucking as he came in Merlin’s mouth. Arthur saw white; lightning, and before he was completely down from his release, rain was pouring down from the heavens. He looked down. 

Merlin’s smile was blinding.

* * *

**11.**

**Title:** Mine  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** No warnings apply

“So,” Arthur drew the word out. “ _Mer_ lin, are you telling me I need to have sex with you to end this drought?”

Merlin was too worried to smirk.

“I need to perform the spell but you are the King of Camelot so you are the one who needs to ask the elements to restore balance.”

Arthur smirked at him. “I am really not seeing a problem here.”

Merlin bit his lip and looked at Arthur. “Because you’re the King and you are asking…I have to have sex with you.”

Arthur frowned at him. 

“As in,” Merlin said licking his lips, a delicate red sweeping over his cheeks. “You have to be on the bottom.”

“Oh,” Arthur said and then his eyes cleared. “Oh!”

“I know,” Merlin said quickly. “That you don’t do that because you’re the King and you can’t do that for anyone but-” 

Arthur cut him off with a kiss. “Yes.”

“But…” Merlin said with surprise.

“Yes,” Arthur said happily and began to strip. 

Merlin stared at him stupidly until Arthur was down to his smallclothes.

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said. “I have been told my whole life I am not allowed to experience someone being inside of me like that. But I’ve wanted it. My father is dead and I trust you not to go bragging to Gwaine about it. So, please take off your clothes so that you can fuck me.”

Merlin nodded and stripped as quickly as he could. 

Arthur smiled and collected the pot of oil they used on Merlin. He turned his back on the wizard and lifted one of his knees up onto their bed. He reached back and began swirling oil around his entrance. 

“No!” Merlin said and there was a crash behind him. Arthur looked over his shoulder to find Merlin on the floor in a tangle of his own clothes. Merlin struggled to stand up and then he was pressing into Arthur’s back. “I want to do that.”

Arthur thrust a finger into him and groaned. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Merlin said and oiled up his fingers to slide one in next to Arthur’s. “I want to open you up.” 

Arthur pulled his finger out and wiped it off on one of his towels. He leaned forward and closed his eyes to bask in the feeling of Merlin’s fingers, long and thin and sure, moving inside of him. Merlin kept returning for more oil until Arthur felt loose and wet and impatient. 

“Please,” Arthur begged.

“It’s not always easy…the first time,” Merlin said kissing along Arthur’s spine. “If this is the only time I get to do this I want to make it good.”

“If I promise to let you do it again will you get on with it?”

Merlin mouthed at the base of Arthur’s spine and pulled his fingers out. “Turn over.”

Arthur crawled up the bed missing the feel of Merlin inside of him, feeling open and wanting. Merlin followed him up but waited until Arthur was settled and facing him before he reached down for Arthur’s knee and lifted it up and over his elbow. 

Merlin took a moment to look before he caught Arthur’s eye. “Ready?”

“Hurry up, _Mer_ lin.”

Merlin pressed the head of his cock to Arthur’s entrance. Arthur arched, it was more than his fingers had been but it felt…amazing. Merlin moved into him slowly, little teasing thrusts of his hips until he was seated completely inside of Arthur. They both took a moment to breath. Then Merlin began to move, slowly, shallowly, rolling his hips into Arthur and nailing the place inside the King. Arthur’s really understood what he had been missing as his body flared in pleasure. 

Arthur reached up and cupped Merlin’s cheek. “Your eyes are changing colours; like storm clouds.”

“It’s the magic,” Merlin said and began muttering under his breath. Arthur didn’t understand the words but he could see the sparks of electricity arching between them and feel the magic feeding into his body. Arthur held on tight as Merlin’s voice rose and his hips started moving faster. Arthur fought to keep his eyes open as Merlin’s body pushed him further than he had been before. His legs tightened around Merlin’s hips. Arthur threw his head back and came with Merlin’s hand around his cock, electricity and magic pouring between them. 

He didn’t hear the crash of thunder in the sky outside as his eyes clouded over with the bright blue of electricity slamming into the ground.

* * *

**12.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** none 

MOMENTS

There are moments in life that we never forget. Moments of terror that carve their way into our minds, that still bring a shiver coiling round our spine like a silver tongued serpent, unrepentant in its nature. Moments of overwhelming joy painted in beautiful colours within our cherished memories. Moments of sorrow, an unwanted reminder of the frailty of this life.

Then of course, there are also moments of magic. We don’t always know it, we almost never see it, yet somehow, we feel it. It can be as simple as the burning bronze shimmer of falling leaves, cascading through the air in a downward dance of autumn. Perhaps the flickering flame of a firefly catches your eye as it chases the night air.

These moments, all that had ever been, all that would come would never compare to the moment our fair sorcerer Merlin and brave prince Arthur faced now.

.

"MERLIN! It's the only way!" Morgana screamed. Camelot, consumed by a violent violet vortex only held off by Morgana's spell. People fled in terror, yet here stood three, the only hope for the world. 

Morgana shrieked falling to her knees. "I can't hold Mab off for long. The prophecy is clear; only by joining with Arthur will you receive the full extent of your power and defeat Mab."

Arthur lay a firm hand on Merlin's shoulder, the young wizard faced him, meeting calm, understanding blue eyes. 

Merlin nodded; within moments they were in a secluded room, the lock of the door echoed in Merlin's heart. He longed for Arthur for so long, but not like this...

Arthur began to disrobe, a blush coloured Merlin's cheek and he turned to face the wall, flustered. Arthur curled his arms around him, pulling him against his chest. Merlin panted as Arthur began removing his clothes.

Soon naked, Merlin felt faint; Arthur held him close pressing a kiss to his shoulder tenderly. Merlin gasped jumping.

"Merlin, shh. I want you, but I won't force you, not for any reason, we’ll find another way, if it's what you want..." Arthur crooned in his ear. 

Merlin spun, shocked. "You... want me?"

"Always have," Arthur whispered. Merlin lunged- raw passion and longing as lips parted, tongues entwining. Arthur pushed Merlin towards the bed, peppering him with kisses. "Have you ever... I mean, with a man?"

"No... with anyone..." answered Merlin, blushing furiously. 

Arthur caressed his reddened cheek, smiling as Merlin tried to hide from him. "Beautiful." 

Retrieving soothing oils, Arthur took Merlin into his arms. "If it gets too much, you tell me, we'll stop. I won't hurt you, not for a prophecy, not for Queen Mab, not even the world."

Merlin nodded. They moved together, kissing slowly, soon the passion built. Arthur moved till he was straddling his lover. He reached for the oil; Merlin froze. "It's not for you, love."

Merlin opened his mouth, but couldn’t speak. He watched as Arthur rose up; whilst holding his gaze, slowly penetrated himself, preparing himself. He moaned grinding his hips down as he twisted his fingers, bucking as he grazed his prostate. Merlin panted, watching the powerful ripple of muscles, amazed at what Arthur was doing. His cock throbbed; he twitched, fingers yearning to touch. 

Arthur placed Merlin’s hand on his aching dick. "Go ahead, touch yourself for me."

Writhing, Arthur whispered"You're so beautiful like this, fucking your fist, thinking of me, think about how it's gonna feel, Merlin, forcing your cock deep inside me, fucking me, owning me, I want you to come inside me, mark me as yours, Merlin... I'm gonna ride your cock, fuck you hard, gonna do everything with you; when this is all over, we won't leave my chambers for a week because it's gonna take a long, _long_ time for what I plan."

He impaled himself fully; they screamed in unison. It was hard, fast and dirty. Arthur rode Merlin's cock until Merlin could take no more. Merlin's nails dug into sun-kissed skin, he cried out, sobbing through his orgasm. Arthur felt it as he was coated in hot, thick ropes of come, falling forward coming hard, coating Merlin's chest.

They clung to one another riding the waves of ecstasy coursing through the blood pounding in their ears. They broke apart; Arthur looked deep into Merlin's eyes as a golden haze burning brighter than flame filled him with magic. 

Merlin finally spoke after his long silence, "Let's go show this bitch who she's dealing with. I have plans later, and so do you."

* * *

**13.**

**Pairing:** Vivian/Elyan  
 **Warnings:** None

“Couldn’t be bothered to come himself, could he?” Olaf snorted. Elyan sensed Merlin sneaking a look his way, but kept his own eyes forward. “I suppose we should take you to her, then.” 

He stood with effort. To Elyan he appeared thin, his skin loose like the weight had fallen from him too quickly. 

Merlin hefted his satchel of books, trotting after Olaf’s lead. Elyan followed.

xOx

If King Olaf was thin, the Lady Vivian was gaunt. Her hands shook where they rested in her lap. She gazed out her window, ignoring her father, the bow Elyan made her and that Merlin hurriedly copied.

“Well?” Olaf said. 

“May I?” Merlin gestured, hesitant. Olaf grunted. 

Merlin’s examination was brief and ginger, like he was afraid to touch her. She flinched under his hands as if they burned.

xOx

“What do you think?” Elyan asked Merlin later.

“Magic, and powerfully cast,” Merlin murmured, licking his finger to help turn a page in his book. “The same that ruled Arthur for a time.” 

“Gwen broke that spell,” Elyan said. 

Merlin hummed an agreement, poring over his pages.

xOx

“She’s been enthralled for far longer than Arthur was,” Merlin said, apologetic.

Olaf stalked on his dais like an agitated bear, calling for explanations, a counter charm, the culprit behind the deed. Merlin offered him cautious options, asking for patience while he researched. 

Elyan turned to Vivian where she sat in her chair. “Would you like to take a walk, milady?” He asked, soft. 

Her lip curled; she turned her face away.

xOx

“How can an affliction of the heart be treated with violence?” Elyan frowned.

Merlin lifted his shoulders. “She’s fiixated,” he said, hopeless. “Something, or someone, must shatter that fixation. As Gwen did for Arthur.” 

The logic of it unsettled Elyan. Gwen was a smith — she forged. It was against her nature to shatter.

xOx

Vivian drew her shawl tighter against the spring breeze. She used Elyan as a crutch, a solid thing to lean against but not speak to. Her eyes only warmed when they skimmed over Elyan’s crest. He tore it from his cape when they returned to the castle and gave it to her. She eyed him as a fox eyes a hound, but took it anyway. 

xOx

“No man,” Olaf growled, “touches my daughter.” He shoved Merlin’s books and papers into his chest, making him stumble.

xOx

Vivian spoke only of Arthur. Once she realized Elyan would not try to silence or punish her, her thoughts came in a torrent, desperate, tripping off her tongue.

Elyan let her lean against him. He listened.

xOx

“If she dies...” Merlin whispered. “Olaf will bring war down upon Camelot.”

Elyan laced and unlaced his fingers. _If she dies,_ he thought, _it will have been for nothing._

xOx

She sagged against him, sobbing.

“It hurts—” she choked. “It _hurts_.” 

“I know.” He tipped up her chin. “Vivian, you must be brave. I’ll grant anything you request of me. Anything,” he promised. “But I cannot if you do not ask.” 

She grit her teeth and screamed, pounding her sharp fists against his shoulders until the strength left her. She slumped, shaking. 

Carefully, Elyan lowered them to sit upon the grass. 

“Please,” she finally breathed. “Please.” Her head lolled against his shoulder, her face bloodless. 

Elyan closed his eyes. He kissed her, gentle — helped her loop her arms around his neck. He turned up the hem of her dress so he could reach beneath, petting her legs for a long moment to help stave off her shivering. His fingers coaxed her, rubbing until she dampened for him, her sex going plump and sweet. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, freeing himself. She nodded, though her breath was shallow, fearful. “Command me, milady.” 

“ _Do_ it,” Vivian bit out, pressing her cheek to his. 

She froze as if stabbed when they met. Her breath stopped. Fear scalded him — what if this was the surest way to hurt her, to make certain she’d never recover? He cupped her face, needing to see her eyes, and their bodies shifted. Like a hammer applied to a scored piece of metal, Elyan felt something _give_. 

Vivian jolted, gasping, clinging to him while her body quaked. Wild laughter rocked her and she dug her nails into his back, chest heaving with the lightness of freedom.

* * *

**14.**

**Pairings:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

“So. What. You’re. Telling. Me,” Arthur gasps out as he continues to drive into Merlin’s arse, his balls smacking against Merlin’s with each thrust. “Is. That. _Magic_.” And Merlin can just hear the sarcasm in the word, even through their heavy panting. “Is. A. Thing. That. Exists.” Arthur stops - words and sexing - to adjust his grip on Merlin’s calves and actually pushes them out further. He’s pretty sure his legs aren’t supposed to spread that far, and he can feel the stretch that is almost too much, but then Arthur is plunging back inside of him. It’s a new angle. Merlin sees stars.

“Yesssss,” he hisses out between his teeth. It’s in response to Arthur’s sort of question, but he’s pretty sure it serves dual purposes. Because even though this whole sex thing is out of their hands at the moment, it doesn’t mean Merlin isn’t _enjoying_ it.

Arthur’s hips buck forward hard then, pushing Merlin further up the bed and making him crack his head against the giant, black headboard. He sees stars in front of his eyes, but a concussion is way better than _dying_.

Because Merlin might have been born with magic and he might have been messing around with new spells and such. And he might have come across a spell he wasn’t too sure of in a book that he probably should have avoided all together (and really, it had a skull and crossbones on the spine. Merlin _knows_ better!)

Instead, Merlin had pulled a Harry Potter and used the spell anyway, giving it a little extra kick in the pants with some Golden Eyes and directed it at Arthur. What? It said it was for lovers!

That was three days ago and since then, both Merlin and Arthur have felt like they’ve been _dying_ from the inside out. It had started with stomach cramping and then moved on to a fever. Merlin had equated the whole thing to the flu and Arthur blamed him for getting him sick as well. But that morning, when they’d gotten up, Merlin could barely stand up. His body had ached and he felt like he was literally burning up. Arthur’s skin had been red and blistering and his voice had been completely gone.

It hadn’t been pretty. Especially when Merlin had had to explain the magic _thing_ , because it was obvious now that was what had caused the problem (after Merlin had called Gaius of course. _That_ had been a fun conversation. Not.)

Merlin doesn’t know why Arthur sounds so annoyed every time he asks about the magic, though (which has been a lot.) He’s getting a lot of sex out of the deal!

Arthur rolls his hips and his cock presses hard into Merlin’s prostate. He surprises himself by shouting out a profanity and coming all over himself. He’s lost count of how many times he’s come now. It’s a lot. He’s just waiting for Arthur to finally work through all the magic inside of him and come. Gaius said that’s when the spell will finally be broken.

“We’re. Going. To. Talk. Long. And. Hard. About. This. Later. _Mer_ lin,” Arthur pants and sweat drips down his nose to land on Merlin’s chest. “Long.” Thrust. “And.” Buck. “Hard.” Roll.

Merlin can’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were enjoying this,” he breathes out.

Arthur actually growls at him and presses his lips against Merlin’s. “Fucking. Magic.”

Fucking magic indeed.

* * *

**15.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur Side of Gwaine.  
 **Warnings:** Non-con, drugged Merlin, Voyeurism (Non sexual)

“What, the hell is this?” Gwaine yelled out, trying not to cough on the purple dust that came out of nowhere, covering them all. Arthur and his knights had been searching for reported highwaymen in the area for three days, until they were attacked by some unknown powder on the road. 

“Nothing I would worry about, Sir Knight, unless you carry magic,” an unknown male spoke. The man was not dressed as one of the bandits they were chasing just moments before, but wore robes similar to Gaius. 

“We are knights from Camelot, no one in our party would have magic,” Arthur snapped back, trying to wipe the dust from his face. 

“And, I do not doubt you my lord, however, the Lady Morgana has other beliefs on the subject. She thinks there is one among you that has been using magic to protect you.”

Arthur opened his mouth to tell their attacker where Morgana can stick her theory, but was cut off by the most gut wrenching scream he heard outside of battle. The noise put the knight in motion, most leaping from their horses to defend from whatever made that noise, except for Gwaine, who sprinted to Merlin, calling his name, catching him before he fell from his horse.

“Well, no one _would_ guess the servant,” the man mused.

“What are you doing to my servant?” Arthur knelt beside Merlin, who looked pale despite the purple dust still covering his body. 

“It’s a simple concentrate of dried herbs and flowers used by Druids to enhance prowess during rituals involving sex magic. Of course they used far less than your servant is covered in. I feel he will be in a lot of pain Your Highness,” giving Arthur a mockery of a bow, the unknown man turned to leave.

It was a testament to how well his knights knew is will, when Leon led Percival and Elyan, to capture their assailant, Morgana will not learn anything against Arthur this night.

“Look Princess, you can kill Merlin without-“

“Gwaine, I’ll listen to your pointless intimidations later, Merlin needs our help.”

“You’re not going to kill him here?”

“Whatever Merlin’s transgressions may or may not be against me, he is my retainer, and it is my job to protect him. And he bloody well can’t defend himself from any accusations like this, can he? So grab any water off the horses, let’s see if washing this crap off him will help.”

Arthur worked as quickly as he could to strip a thrashing Merlin, where. Arthur couldn’t pinpoint any symptoms that he under stood. Merlin shock has if he were freezing, sweated has if he had a fervor, and moans sounded has if he were experiencing heighten pain and pleasure. 

“Here Arthur, I grabbed his extra neckerchief to help with the washing,” Gwaine handed the cloth to Arthur as he uncapped the first water skin. Pouring the water over Merlin’s face, Arthur wiped of the power as best he could, but the sensations where increasing Merlin’s need, to the point he was wantonly humping air.

“Arthur, this isn’t working. I’m afraid if his manhood swells anymore, he leak blood. Worry not; I know a few tricks to fight off his desire.”

“No Gwaine, I’ll do it, he’s still my responsibility.”

“And he’s _my_ friend.”

“He’s mine too, Gwaine. And, until I hear reason, from his own lips, otherwise, he will remain such.”

“Fine, I set up for you.”

“What are you doing?”

“Getting a bedroll. You’re not going to fuck Merlin in the middle of a road.”

____________________________________________

From between the trees were Gwaine stood guard, he watch Arthur repeatedly bring Merlin to climax using his hands and reassuring words. Each time Merlin would take a little longer and his eyes would become a little clearer until Gwaine heard Merlin recover the use of words.

“Sorry Arthur, I didn’t mean–“

“Hush Merlin, we’ll talk later. One more time should do it.” With a finger, Arthur applied pressure to Merlin’s entrance, “Do you mind if we can–“

“Yes! Please Arthur!”

Gwaine watched Arthur open Merlin, with slow tenderness, from his post. He never thought he’ll see the day Arthur would treat Merlin with lover’s hands, especially under the suspicion of witchcraft. They moved in their primitive dance, until Merlin came, gripping Arthur, like he was riding out a storm.

____________________________________________

Farther in the forest, Leon insured Morgana would never find out Merlin’s secret, as he pulled his sword out of their attackers heart.

* * *

**16.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** dub-con, unsafe sex

Merlin pushes him against the loo’s stall, tearing Arthur’s clothes with little care, nails scraping his flesh as Merlin rips his shirt off and exposes his chest, his breathing erratic. Arthur knows what he wants, rather, what his need makes him want. He can feel Merlin’s magic pounding in the air, suspended above them, surrounding them; Arthur can feel Merlin’s desperation as he fights Arthur’s jeans off him, down his thighs until he can get his hands on Arthur’s cock and take him into his mouth as he sharply falls down on his knees with a thud. 

It’s been happening more often lately, and Merlin’s need has been growing. Arthur doesn’t know what to do, how to fix this, _him_ , how to free Merlin of this curse that has been thrown upon him; he just can’t believe that Merlin has to do this to _survive_. 

It scared Arthur at first, the ferocity in which Merlin came to him that first time, how Merlin used him, babbling about how much he needed it, needed Arthur, and how Arthur couldn’t understand what had happened to him. He still remembers sometimes how he would fight Merlin and it would be completely useless to struggle against Merlin’s magic, until Arthur convinced himself that it was alright, and that he was finally getting the chance to get what he had been waiting for years; Merlin, even if that wasn’t the way he had been expecting. 

Arthur has learnt now, he enjoys it as if it were Merlin doing it of his own free will, and he does, too, because Arthur knows Merlin wants him when he’s not rapt under the curse, he knows, but at those times when he’s got Merlin pumping his dick in his hand and sucking the tip inside his mouth so as not to miss out the smallest drop of precome, it’s hard to think about it. 

Feeling his chest heave, Arthur grasps his shirt in his hand, lifting it up slightly so he can look at Merlin properly, can see his face, his closed eyes and stunningly sharp cheekbones, and Arthur’s own dick as it disappears between Merlin’s obscene lips with each bob of his head.

“Merlin,” he breathes when Merlin thumbs Arthur’s balls and he feels a jolt of pleasure running all the way up through his spine.

Merlin doesn’t listen, he’s too wrapped up in getting Arthur off, too needy, just barely focusing on anything else that’s not eating Arthur up. He’s hard too, Arthur can see the hard line of his erection through his jeans where he’s kneeling on the floor, but both hands and his mouth are only touching Arthur, fingertips dancing over Arthur’s skin, and wet mouth licking and suckling with great intent, drawing a mind-blowing orgasm out of Arthur in minutes.

His head thuds against the door, and he grasps Merlin’s hair in his hands a bit too tight as he comes, but feeling Merlin’s lips sealed around the head of his cock and then his tongue lapping at even the last drop just make Arthur’s knees go stupidly weak and his brain completely frozen.

Merlin rests his forehead against Arthur’s thigh then, and he sighs against Arthur’s skin whilst Arthur runs his hands through Merlin’s hair as soothingly as he can manage, stroking the nape of his neck with his fingers.

When Merlin stands up he’s got that ashamed look on his eyes that Arthur cannot stand, so he grabs Merlin’s face in both hands and kisses him, sweet but rough, and when they break apart from the kiss and Merlin sighs against Arthur’s lips again murmuring an apology, Arthur speaks, says, “It’s alright, we’ll find a way to get you out of this soon, I swear we will.”

Merlin looks at him with glassy eyes but he doesn’t say anything

Arthur is true to his word.

* * *

**17.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Shameless abuse of Hans Christian Andersen’s _The Little Mermaid_

“Wait. You need me to shag you? Or else you will die?”

Merlin nodded. He was, for what must have been the first time ever, avoiding Arthur’s eyes. And blushing.

“That’s…” Arthur racked his brain for something to say, and came up with, “odd.”

That earned him a hot-eyed glare that said, loud and clear, _You don’t say_. Merlin had a whole set of sarcastic expressions to meet with Arthur’s stupider comments.

Arthur cleared his throat.

He couldn’t be blamed. Ever since he met Merlin, his entire life – his quiet, sensible life that he did not miss one bit, not that he would ever admit it out loud – took a ninety degree turn off the path of sanity and was now headed, full-speed, into the realm of the odd and the unexpected and the downright bizarre.

And Merlin was right in the middle of it, chewing on his lower lip and messing up his hair. He finally met Arthur’s gaze and shrugged, offering a shy, tiny smile that wasn’t like him at all.

He grabbed the tablet and stylus that Arthur presented him with when he got tired of Merlin’s _other_ attempts at communication, which mostly involved wild gestures and exasperated glares when Arthur didn’t understand (on account of being too busy ducking because Merlin’s gesturing was very… expansive), and began to write.

***

Merlin did not like kissing. That was something Arthur already knew. 

What Merlin _did_ like was to run, and dance, and annoy Arthur. He made Arthur take him places. He made him sit through theatre plays, and various festivities and celebrations. He took to playing harp like a proverbial fish to water – heh – but _would not stop,_ and Arthur was the only one who seemed to mind.

The kissing was because Merlin had sold his tongue to the Sea-witch; the rest of it, because he got a brand new pair of legs in return.

Well. Legs _and_ other body parts. The Sea-witch, Arthur thought appreciatively, had really outdone herself.

That wasn’t the first time they ended up in Arthur’s bed, because for all his irritating qualities, Merlin was bloody gorgeous and Arthur wasn’t blind. But for the first time, they were both completely naked. And also for the first time, Merlin seemed content to lie back and let Arthur take the lead.

Which was all nice and well, except Arthur had no idea what to do.

He kissed his way down Merlin’s body – simple – and nuzzled his thigh. Merlin had pale, slightly sunburnt skin that was way warmer to the touch than skin had any right to be. It was easy to get lost in the sensation, especially because Merlin shivered and trembled and sighed when Arthur did something right.

Arthur ran his mouth over Merlin’s cock and delighted when he felt it jump and harden. It was silky and smelt of _Merlin_ in a way he was still trying to wrap his head around. For now, he kissed it and licked, experimentally, and took it fully in his mouth to which Merlin gave a loud, startled moan. His hands tangled in Arthur’s hair, and he seemed unsure whether he wanted to push him further down, or hold him in place and arch his body up.

Arthur kept Merlin’s cock in his mouth, enjoying the sensation, and trailed his hand downwards, rubbing Merlin’s balls – another yelp; he had never heard Merlin be so vocal – and down between his legs, searching for the spot where he could press into his body. 

He had brought oil for that purpose and used it now to slick his fingers. Merlin’s cock popped out of his mouth and he smiled, seeing Merlin sprawled boneless and flushing and gorgeous, his eyes stuck on Arthur’s face as if he had, personally, hung the moon.

Merlin winced when Arthur’s finger breached him but it was a passing sensation. Arthur worked his way in, watching Merlin get lost in pleasure, his mouth slightly open and his eyes screwed shut. He wriggled down on Arthur’s fingers and whined when Arthur removed them, to make way for his cock.

After that it was a mess of heat and pressure and overpowering sense of _rightness_. He held them both through their orgasm and later, when Merlin smiled at him fondly and wrapped himself around Arthur’s body like he belonged there.

And, well. Arthur never gave much thought to his immortal soul, but if he really had enough of it to share with people –with _Merlin_ \- he was only happy to help.

* * *

**18.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** age disparity, possible underage, Merlin's 17/18/19, Arthur's in his late 20s

The outskirts of Zone A reek like fucking rotten meat. Used to be trade running through the area; it’s a dumping ground now, bags and boxes and whole car loads of shit piled in the streets.

Arthur bounds over an abandoned vending stall, trying not to breathe through his nose, and for once, he’s glad for the cold. He can’t imagine this place in the full swing of summer, doesn’t know how this Merlin bloke stands it, stewing in it all day. Probably goes back to whatever hell hole he calls home stinking like -

“Stop.”

Arthur freezes.

The bite of a muzzle presses frigid above his collar; he doesn’t make another move except to swallow.

“You Gwaine’s mate?”

*~*~*~*

Merlin’s head’s too big for his neck. It’s probably the beanie in all fairness, thick and bulging over his hair. His clothes hang off him, stained-up, bulky at the pockets. He’s got fat lips.

If he wasn’t born into gates and walls and quarantine, there’s no way he’s old enough to remember much of Before, but shit does the kid have a fucking stash.

“All right,” he says, pistol at his side, thumb on the hammer, and he stands back from the popped boot of a rusted Toyota. “Take whatever. Ten credits each for the mags, twenty for the pot, twenty for the booze.”

“I’ve already paid ten to get here.”

Merlin lifts an eyebrow, unmoved. “That was to ensure I’d show up.” He leans against the taillight, gestures at the stuff with his gun. “Hurry up,” he says, which makes Arthur want to flip open a mag and read an article. He doesn’t, just stares for a longer moment than necessary and moves to make his selection, standing out here in the open.

The kid’s got everything. Certainly more than Arthur’s been acquainted with for a while. It’s even arranged in order of filth. Pretty blondes and tits in the front, jizzed-on pussies in the back. Arthur takes four of them, shoves one in the middle though he knows Merlin’s watching like a hawk.

“What kind of weed is this?” he asks, fingering one of the small plastic bags. He lifts one to eye-level, scrutinizes the dust.

“It’ll get you high.”

Arthur looks at him. “Would never have guessed.”

He drops the weed on top of the mags, gives the inventory another once-over, then turns to face Merlin fully. “That’s it then,” he says, and Merlin takes the stuff out of his hands, shuts the boot.

He starts to lay it out, presumably to add up the cost, and Arthur hurriedly goes for his own pocket, the ration credits shoved down deep. When he looks up again, Merlin’s deliberately paused over the porno framed dead centre, leveling Arthur with a wry grin.

“Let me fuck you and this one’s free,” he says, and it’s amazing how quickly that image floods behind Arthur’s eyes.

He looks away, puts on a disgruntled frown. “You want the fucking credits or not?” he says, to which Merlin gives a delighted snort, arranges all of Arthur’s shit with the dick-sucking twinks right on top.

“That’ll be sixty then,” he says, leaning close, smiling.

Arthur snatches it all, drops the credits on top of the car, turns to make his leave, and that’s when the coppers show up.

*~*~*~*

Merlin’s not as cocky jammed into a gutted filing cabinet someone tossed out of a nearby office building, distant shouts and gunfire bouncing off the metal, still too close for comfort.

He trembles through the first twenty minutes, mashed tight into Arthur’s arm, pale as a ghost. Looks even younger this way

“We can’t leave,” Arthur says, quiet as he can. “Not until -”

“I fucking know, man, alright?”

And once it’s been an hour, the trembling may as well never have stopped.

Merlin won’t stop moving, restless against Arthur’s side, jostling everywhere, breathing high and tight.

“Would you quit?” Arthur spits out, shifts them both, and comes into contact with exactly what’s got Merlin worked up.

Merlin gasps, presses forward before jumping away - as much as he can in here.

Arthur flushes hot, swallows. “It’s fine,” he says, quiet. “We’ve been in here a while. It’s just the heat getting to you.”

“Shut up,” Merlin mutters, angry, low and embarrassed.

“I’ll take care of it for you,” Arthur offers after a beat, his pulse quick.

“I was taking the piss when I said the magazine’d be free.”

“Mag doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Arthur says, and puts his hand over the bulge in Merlin’s trousers, pressing firmly.

Merlin lets out a quiet involuntary moan and Arthur rubs at him, faces close, makes him come that way.

* * *

**19.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Military violence (non-graphic), character death, impending major character death, barebacking

Arthur is slumped against the wall of their half-destroyed shelter. His lieutenant jacket lies on the ground beside him. Dirty and bleeding from small scratches on his arms and face, he’s staring straight ahead, eyes empty of emotion.

Without Arthur, Merlin would be lying dead on that battlefield along with the rest of their platoon. His lifeless body would be drenched in ash and mud, his soul free to... do whatever it is souls do when they are freed from their bodies.

If Merlin had been sleeping in his tent, like a good soldier – like Gwaine, Leon, Percy, Will – he would have been killed either by the bomb itself, or by the violent fires following it.

Without Merlin, Arthur would be dead, too. Arthur would have run into the chaos to try and help, would have fought until his dying breath, if it hadn’t been for Merlin. Therein lies the difference between them: Arthur is noble and fights not for himself – he fights for the cause and for his men. 

Merlin only fights to survive.

The only two left of a 1,000 man battalion, they have survived. The only two left to keep fighting a war that can no longer be won. It’s too late. The promised Asian reinforcements didn't arrive on time. Cardiff, who fought so valiantly against the threat and became the last-standing city in the entire United Kingdom, is lost.

They’re lost too, and Merlin knows it. They have no chance of getting out of the country and into an allied nation without being caught. Today, they have lost their entire world, and they are lost in it.

Within hours, they will be apprehended by enemy forces and brought before a for-show court martial... and then they’ll be executed. Merlin’s strangely calm in face of his impending death; he’s done his best in this farce of a war. It’s time to stop fighting.

Merlin moves closer to his platoon leader. He crouches down in front of him, puts his hands on Arthur’s knees, shakes them gently to wake him from the nightmare that he undoubtedly is reliving over and over in his head.

“Arthur,” he says softly, leaning into Arthur’s space.

There’s no reaction at first, but then there’s a shaky breath escaping Arthur’s chapped lips.

“Merlin,” he whispers, grabbing the front of Merlin's army shirt, pulling him even closer. “Merlin, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“We’ll wait for death to claim us, Arthur.”

“If we hadn’t snuck off--”

“We would have died with our squad. The general outcome would have been the same. This way, we have a little more time.”

For a couple of seconds, Arthur closes his eyes and lets out another shaky breath. When he opens his eyes again, they’re shiny with tears. It’s disconcerting, watching Arthur fall apart. They’ve been close, felt each other’s skin, even been inside each other... but nothing like this. This is too intimate. At a loss for what to do or say, Merlin presses his lips to Arthur’s. They’re salty and taste of mud and smoke. Desperately, Arthur clings to him, kissing him back, biting and sucking on Merlin’s lower lip like it’s all that matters.

Maybe it is.

Merlin grabs Arthur’s hair, gently pulls him away and tells him to pull down his trousers and pants. Taking the lube still in his pocket from earlier and dribbling a generous amount on Arthur’s cock, Merlin then takes him in hand and strokes him. Even though it’s not really enough friction, Arthur hardens quickly and he drags Merlin closer and kisses him again and again. After a few moments, Merlin lets go of his grip in favour of dropping his own trousers and pants and straddling Arthur’s hips. Relaxed from earlier, it’s easy to slide onto the hard cock. Merlin smiles at the beautiful sound Arthur makes deep in his throat before gasping out a short “Merlin”.

The grip on Merlin’s hips tighten when he sets a rhythm, and their harsh panting fills the small, dirty space. When Arthur’s hips snap up to meet Merlin’s downward motion, it’s not long before he comes. Merlin works him through it as he strokes himself to completion, too.

With a last kiss, Merlin tries to put every single one of his feelings into words. He’s not completely sure he managed the feat, but when they separate, Arthur’s smile is soft and his eyes no longer empty.

That's when the soldiers burst in.

* * *

**20.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Dark? Mentions of Character Death.

Mornings were the in-between time. Where every moment seemed to meld memories with a cold reality that Merlin could not bare to face.

Most mornings there would be a ghostly touch which would linger along his skin. A memory of something that had gone. Something long gone.

A haunting memory of someone holding him and pressing into him during the morning hours. There were days when Merlin would feel names tumble from his lips and other times confusion warred within him as the images of past lovers escaped his feeble mind.

Names and faces often remained just out of his reach these days. As if his mind was full of holes. The harder Merlin would try to remember the harder it was to piece everything together.

At times those ghostly touches would seem too real. Those times when he could feel his muscles quiver in anticipation and his cock harden from the echoed caresses of past lovers.

The haunting touches disappeared by the time Merlin awoke enough to remember there was no one with him. No warm body to rest against.

Some days Gwen worried about him. He could tell by the way she watched him. So silent. Everyone was silent these days. No one talked.

The mornings he woke up and could see Arthur on top of him, writhing in ecstasy as he rode Merlin’s cock, were the best mornings. The red haze of the moment. Everything slowed down when Arthur was there.

A thin layer of sweat coated him as he worked his hips faster and faster, trying to find that spot which would make Arthur groan and clutch at him. It was a frantic race to finish. No slow love making but the rough friction of bodies.

On his back, barely holding back his pleasure, he drank in the sight of Arthur like a starved man. How his cheeks flushed, his blonde hair was a messy nest from the sweat and his thighs quivered from the exertion. It was always the nearest to a heaven Merlin had ever been.

In the moment that hung out of time, when he looked into Arthur’s eyes before coming, a second which lasted years.

By the time his breathing had returned, Arthur was no where to be seen. He never stayed these days. Merlin found it highly annoying and planned to talk to the prat about it one of these days.

The worst mornings were when clarity came with the morning sun. The days he awoke and knew the world had long ago ended and still he remained immortal and alone. That no one was worried about his mental health and no one could hold him because everyone had died so many years ago. There were no phantom lovers, no friends and no Arthur, just Merlin waiting on the precipice for a time that never came.

Those days he watched the red sun and wished the planet would finally lay waste to his skeletal figure and that he could finally find some release.

* * *

**21.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin

Arthur needed to fuck or he was going to _die_. That was all there was to it. His balls would rupture or his head would explode while he fumbled to get his dick out . He wanted to die with sword in hand, but definitely not like this. Arthur could happily _strangle_ his manservant if he didn’t already have so many other plans for the pain in his ass. 

That mostly included a very specific pain in Merlin’s ass. 

“Merlin!” 

Arthur slammed his door open, his normal swagger reduced to a pained limp. Merlin noticed his condition. He didn’t notice gravy and wine stains all over Arthur’s favorite tunic, but his beady eyes didn’t miss a single detail now. His smile was stupidly innocent, and if the prince and Merlin was neither of those things. God, he was going to fuck the little dolt _so hard_. 

“Sire. I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.” 

Arthur made a sound like the bark of an indignant hound. He never stopped gaining ground on Merlin. “Do you realize how long I’ve been gone?” 

Merlin shrugged, maintaining his air of ignorance. “Hasn’t it been three days?” 

Arthur grabbed him by the back of his neck and pinned him down with steely eyes. “Five days, Merlin. _Five_ days with your little farewell present.” 

Merlin’s grin was so wide that Arthur didn’t know if he wanted to kiss it off or lick it off or just shove Merlin’s face into his groin. “I thought you’d like it.” 

“Like it? That’s not the problem! Get me out of these breeches.” 

Merlin hesitated. He actually fucking hesitated like he would even _consider_ disobeying. Arthur’s grip tightened on Merlin’s neck in silent warning, and the other man’s fingers soon made short work of the laces. Arthur’s cock sprung right out in happy greeting, his head swollen and purple, the shaft arching away from the ring of magic slowly rotating around his groin. The ring of magic he could do nothing against. The ring of magic that continued during a _really important battle._

“Let it be known, Merlin, that I am going to kill you.” 

“You can’t kill me.” 

“Give me one good reason.” 

“You’ll never be free of it then.” 

Arthur growled and flipped Merlin around, bending him over the table, sending Merlin’s lunch smashing to the floor. The audacity of this boy, eating in the prince’s food in the prince’s chambers off the prince’s own plates while Arthur _suffered_. Well, said prince would just have to teach the little pauper a lesson in manners, Arthur thought, a little grimly. He pushed Merlin’s pants down to his ankles, effectively hobbling him, and gripped both hips, pulling his tight little ass down onto his cock. 

Merlin’s magic surged to meet the wizard, slicking Arthur’s flesh, preparing him for his entry. He still took his time though, pushing the limits of the very last of his self-control. Five days. When he agreed to a so-called “farewell gift” he had no idea that he was going to submit to the most extreme torture of his life. He wasn’t without Merlin’s touch for one second, but satisfaction was impossible to find. Sometimes he felt Merlin’s fingers, other times his breath, or the wiggle of his tongue. But it went even deeper than that. To a place that made it hard to think, let alone fight. He could stroke himself for hours if he wanted--and he very much had wanted to do that--but never to relief. 

Relief. He wasn’t even sure such a thing could exist. Not after what Merlin put him through. 

Once he was fully sheathed, that sense of relief was even more elusive. Merlin’s magic was nice, but there was nothing like the solid reality of welcoming, pulsing body. He wiggled and he twitched and his heart raced and no sorcery could ever replicate the sensation of being surrounded by Merlin. Of pumping into Merlin and fucking him open and raw. 

His thrusts were hard at first, because he truly did intend to punish Merlin, but Merlin whined and pushed back onto his dick, and things became a lot more erratic after that. He covered Merlin’s neck in kisses, left bruises everywhere he touched. The rougher he was, the more Merlin whimpered, urging Arthur on, until the final shuddering thrust that filled Merlin’s ass and sent the magic surging into Merlin’s trembling body.

"You're welcome." 

"Merlin. Shut up."

* * *

**22.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Leon, implied Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Non-con: Forced rape between friends

Leon tapped his wrist unit, dead air hissing in his ear-set. Communications down too. His eyes darted sharply around the stacks of the Royal Archives – subterranean, both exits guarded by armed terrorists. Their only hope was to stall the leader, keep him talking and hope Percival’s unit responded to the missed check-in.

Movement caught Leon’s eye. The terrified librarian crouched behind the periodical desk, peeking over the scanner. Leon shook his head minutely, and the man sank back into concealment. Leon consciously averted his eyes. The Prince’s safety was Priority One, but he hoped to come through this with zero casualties.

Alined had an arm about the Prince’s throat, stroking Arthur’s hair and speaking soft threats into his ear. The Prince was terrified, close to tears – younger than his 18 years. It wasn’t until he was dragged toward the Prince that Leon suddenly understood his demand. His heart bottomed out – there was no way. Arthur was just a kid. He TRUSTED Leon. But Alined’s people were stripping Leon’s uniform, slamming Arthur face-down over a table and yanking down his trousers. “Do you want your precious prince to live?” Alined was smiling softly. “He must be ruined in the eyes of the Five Kingdoms. Olaf’s marriage alliance must be prevented – would you prefer I do it myself?” He licked Arthur’s cheek. “Or I could just kill him.” He tossed a packet of lube to Leon. “You have thirteen minutes before your backup comes through that door. Make it good.” He signalled the video to start rolling.

Leon’s hand shook as he stroked Arthur’s back, gentling him. “I’m sorry, my Prince. So sorry…” Did his fondness for Arthur make this easier, or much, much worse?

Arthur whispered back, encouraging and reassuring even through his tears. “It’s alright, Leon, it’s okay. I’m not afraid, if it’s you. You’re family.” The Prince ground against him, his buttocks pressing against Leon’s flaccid cock. “Just… take your time. Make it good – the pervert’s distraction will give the back-up team time to get in place.”

Leon assented reluctantly, caressing Arthur’s thighs, bringing a finger up to tease his entrance. Arthur whimpered and pushed against him. Leon bit open the packet, surreptitiously assessing the room. The terrorists watched avidly. His fingers breached Arthur, pushing dollops of lubricant inside. Arthur moaned, sinking back on them, and rifles began to lower.

He took his time, driving his fingers deep and curling them, his other hand cradling Arthur’s balls and thumbing along his perineum. He placed gentle kisses onto Arthur’s shoulders and back, murmuring apologies into Arthur’s neck. His charge was responsive, moans achingly convincing, body seemingly greedy for Leon’s touch. It shouldn’t have been like this. He hated himself for his reaction, but when Alined urged him on, he found his own cock erect and eager.

Leon positioned himself against Arthur’s entrance, unable to bring himself to push in. Arthur made the decision for them, pressing back in a single motion, engulfing his cock to the root. The rolling of the Prince’s hips brought forth an instinctive response - he gasped, and let go, sinking into his Prince again and again, soft cries punctuating Arthur’s moans. As the terrorists gathered closer, he brought his hand around Arthur’s cock, skillfully jerking it in sharp pulls until the Prince’s hips stuttered against him, his release coating Leon’s hand. 

Had Leon’s feelings been more circumspect, he might have lasted longer, but he couldn’t fight the desire stirring within him. It peaked, and he pulled the Prince tight to his chest, hips pressing hard.

Leon recalled several things happening simultaneously. The backup team burst through the ceiling panels on ropes. The terrorists raised weapons, gunfire shattering the silence. Leon rolled the Prince sideways and under the desk, a stray bullet grazing his arm in a burst of pain. Merlin jumped from behind the desk, sorcery Leon pretended to know nothing about freezing the enemy until they could be disarmed. But the thing Leon remembered most about that instant was his orgasm cresting, his come filling his Prince in waves of pleasure lasting seconds, minutes, eternity, the spell suspending them in time.

Afterwards, when he was out of the hospital, Merlin wrapped his arms around Leon and kissed him on the cheek. “We both know I ruined Arthur for marriage long before you touched him. But thank you for saving my boyfriend’s life, Leon. You took such care. And…” he whispered, “It was the hottest thing I’ve EVER seen. Should you ever want to join us… ”

* * *

**23.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** plague

 

"Can you save him? Everyone tells me you're the best."

Merlin glanced over his shoulder at Arthur as he hovered in the doorway, nodded, then turned to place his hand on Uther's forehead.

With the drapes drawn and the fire lit, the Lord Mayor's room was warm and stuffy, heavy with the scent of medicinal herbs and sour with the smell of sickness. He was not well-loved and most of London believed he deserved to be taken by the plague. He did, however, have a son who could not yet bear to lose him. 

"Air the room. He'll live."

+

He couldn't save them all, but not for want of trying. Gwen's father was the first he cured, and though he lost three nights of sleep and weakened his magic for days after, he ensured that Gwen and Elyan would be safe. They were the closest thing to family he had in London and he would lose the whole city before them. 

(He fears perhaps that he will.)

Merlin saved Arthur a dozen times over--did the preventative spells once for each past life he remembered them sharing. 

Though he doesn't need the protection, he wore the costume of the plague doctor and quickly earned himself a reputation as the only one who outlived his patients.

+

(He will outlive them all.)

+

"Emerson."

Merlin looked up at the sound of his chosen name. The tiny apothecary he ran hadn't had much business before the plague, had a boom during its height, and was empty again now that the plague had taken most of the city. 

Arthur, he thought, the name catching in his heart. "Mr. Pennridge," he said instead. 

Arthur strode across the shop to give Merlin a searching look. "The news from the continent--Amsterdam destroyed, Paris in danger... London is--London isn't--"

"No, it's not." Merlin's fingers twitched to touch Arthur's face, to check if the spells held steady. 

Arthur caught Merlin's hand in his own before Merlin act. "You saved my father and sister, hovering over their beds like the shadow of a great, dark bird. I cannot repay you--"

"You have," Merlin said and his heart felt as if it would pound through his chest. _You repay me every day you live._

"No, that's not--" Arthur shook his head and held Merlin's hand painfully tight. "My sister dreamed that a great fire devoured London. You know she's right. You've always known, Merlin," he whispered. 

"I cannot lose you again." Merlin raised Arthur's hand to kiss his palm. Arthur remembered him and didn't matter how much or how well, he remembered. 

His body remembered Merlin, too, and he shivered with the brush of Merlin's nose against his ear. He's always liked that, the way Merlin would tickle him and nose into the hair around his ear, kiss down the side of his neck and tease him until he was so hard he was fit to burst. 

The world was dying around them and all Merlin could think of in that moment was Arthur. Arthur, the young prince of Camelot, who both was and wasn't this young man who was the son of the Lord Mayor London. Arthur, whose prick was hot and heavy against Merlin's hand, and who breathed harshly against Merlin's face as he fumbled Merlin's breeches open. Who touched Merlin with such a rough familiarity that Merlin feared he'd come too soon with the hot rush of desperation.

Arthur relented, though, and let Merlin take both their pricks into his hand. He stroked them both, teasing Arthur's cockhead until there was enough slickness to slide his prick against Arthur's. 

"I'd fuck you here if I could wait that long to see you come," Merlin said, pressing closer at the shuddering that passed through Arthur's body. "And I've already waited too many lifetimes for that."

When he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of sage and frankincense, and felt Arthur's smouth close over his, Merlin could remember the first time he made Arthur come for him. He opened them to let go of the memory and to watch Arthur again, to feel him tense and shudder and come with a sound that brought Merlin over the edge, too. 

\+ 

Two days later, they ride out of the city into the country, London ablaze behind them.

* * *

**24.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** sex pollen, dub-con verging on non-con

He wakes up and he’s burning, he’s—

And Arthur is there, Arthur is the only cool and solid thing in the world, Arthur with his knit brow and his rough hands, and he’s—he’s leaving, promising to fetch help, but it’s only a fever, Merlin can tell him how to treat a fever, there are herbs …

“It isn’t a fever.”

Merlin doesn’t care about that, he’s burning, it doesn’t matter if it’s the sun or illness or if he’s on a pyre, as long as Arthur stays, and he reaches for him with clumsy hands. “Stay, you must stay, don’t leave me.”

And Arthur stays. There’s something resigned in his expression, something wounded, but he doesn’t bat Merlin’s hands away, and he gives him cool water to drink.

*

“You don’t even know what you need,” says Arthur helplessly. He’s too far to reach, and Merlin squirms on his makeshift pallet. He’s uncoordinated, his magic flaring under his skin but untouchable. Maybe he’s dying, but he doesn’t know what did it, he doesn’t know …

“I need you.”

Arthur looks away.

The heat is everywhere now, crawling inside him. Maybe he’ll burn to dust and blow away.

*

“I thought maybe you’d be able to heal yourself, that you …” It’s dark. Arthur started a fire, but Merlin doesn’t know why. The world is burning, and Arthur isn’t making sense, nothing makes sense but the fever and the chasm inside him, and he doesn’t know what he needs, but Arthur has it, he must have it, Arthur is the only anchor he has.

“Please.” Arthur hasn’t touched him in hours. Years.

The world shifts, and Arthur’s face is over his again. Merlin wraps his hands in Arthur’s shirt so he can’t go. “Listen to me. You drank from a cursed spring, and it’s made you need …” Arthur’s face twists. “If I don’t fuck you, you’ll die. Do you understand me?”

That makes the heat _tighten_ , makes Merlin whine like an animal, but he nods, because oh, he can feel it now, he knows what that ache is. “Please.” It’s the only word he has in him.

“Do you want me to do it? I will.”

Arthur looks as though he expects Merlin to choose to die, but Merlin has wanted this for centuries. He’s wanted it since the world began. And he must say so, because Arthur’s expression shutters before he nods.

*

Arthur undresses him and rolls him over, naked on his knees and elbows, his legs spread. Now that Arthur has decided, his hands never leave Merlin’s skin for long, leaving a path of blessed cool.

He must have checked Merlin’s bag, because he’s found some sort of slick, and soon enough he’s pressing a finger at Merlin’s entrance, spreading it around until the muscle gives and lets him in. Merlin groans high, pushing for more pressure, more everything.

Arthur is steady. He doesn’t fuss, now that he’s decided, he just opens Merlin with one finger, a second, a third, moving and twisting until Merlin feels like iron on a forge, molten and molded into what Arthur needs.

“Are you ready?” Arthur asks, and Merlin can only hope that his whine suffices as an answer.

*

It might hurt, if Merlin weren’t beyond hurt. Arthur isn’t gentle with him, but Merlin doesn’t want his gentleness. The moment Arthur starts fucking him, it’s all Merlin ever wants in the world. He’s still burning, but now he sees a way clear to the flames going out, and it’s Arthur, everything is Arthur, firm hands on his hips, body aligned with his own, wrecked voice in his ear, gasping out “Merlin, I’m sorry, you’re so good—”

Merlin screams when he comes, he’s in flames, he’s—

*

There’s cool water on his face, and Merlin wakes up to Arthur watching him again. His whole body smarts and stings, but his head is clear. “Thank you.” He’s unexpectedly hoarse.

Arthur shakes his head and pulls away, and Merlin so badly wants the excuse to ask for his touch again, but he doesn’t have it anymore. “There aren’t any thanks needed.” His back is to Merlin when he speaks again. “I would have done it even if you’d said you would rather die. I needed—” He stops, and when he speaks again it’s hard and clipped. “Get dressed. We ride for Camelot as soon as we can.”

Merlin has never felt so cold in his life.

* * *

**25.**

**Pairings:** Gwaine/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** Possible underage (high school age) and dub-con

“Remember last month when you said the only way you would have sex with me is if the world was ending? Well, turn on the news and get some condoms.”

Morgana looks at her cell phone – a number she doesn’t recognize. “Who is this?”

“It’s Gwaine.”

“How did you get this number?” Morgana makes a mental note to acquire a new one.

“Snuck it off Arthur’s phone after practice. But seriously, turns out the prophecy is real and I’d like to take you up on your offer.”

Morgana hangs up.

*

Everyone in town knows the prophecy. It’s taught to children when they are young, like tales of magic and wonder. Although the religion from whence it came is no longer common, there exists a small faction of believers still holding onto the centuries old vision.

Seemingly innocuous events are being connected to the prophecy and news reporters have decided there’s only a fortnight before the end.

Her father has always called it nonsense and Morgana has never really believed, but now she’s starting to worry that she’ll actually die a virgin.

*

“I should apologize for last night. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to ask.”

Morgana shuts her locker and finds Gwaine leaning casually against the locker to her right. She stares at him for a moment before leaving for class.

“Is that a ‘no’ then?”

She continues to ignore him.

“Alright, you think about it!”

*  
A few days pass and the people around town start to get panicked. What if the prophecy is true?

*

After Morgana sees another special report on the news showing believers praying for the souls of the world to pass safely tonight, she decides to find Gwaine at school.

*

Morgana’s father is out of town on business, so they agree to meet at her house that night. Gwaine says not to worry about staying late; he doesn’t have a curfew. His mother is either very dense or the most trusting person Morgana has ever heard of.

After school she works on homework to keep her mind off the major life event about to take place – two major life events if the world really does end. She hardly eats any dinner, alone in the house with just her nerves for company. When the time gets closer she goes upstairs to shower and find a suitable outfit – her favorite dark green cotton dress, comfortable and soft.

Gwaine shows up at exactly the agreed upon time and the sound of the doorbell makes Morgana jump. They make awkward small talk as they progress through the house up to Morgana’s room.

“If you’d like to wash up, my bathroom is through there.”

Gwaine gives her a reassuring as he leaves the room.

*

Morgana is adjusting the lights when Gwaine returns.

“You look amazing.”

The sound of his voice startles her. She gives him a shaky smile. “Sorry, just nervous I guess.”

He puts a hand on her cheek and she smiles, so he kisses her gently. He moves his hand down to her neck, the other resting on her hip, and deepens the kiss, pressing her against the wall. He kisses down her neck, pausing at the juncture of her shoulder. She bites her lip to keep from whimpering.

He kneels at her feet and Morgana’s breath hitches. She nods her permission and he trails his fingertips up her legs, pushes her dress up her thighs. Gwaine rubs his thumb across her underwear and she whimpers, lets out a breathy “yeah.” He pulls her underwear down and she lifts her feet out of them. 

Gwaine stares at her body, starts to rub his thumb against her. Her palms are flat against the wall, fingers scratching at the paper. He moves in to put his mouth against her, tentative. This kiss is just as gentle as the one on her mouth. He lifts her leg over his shoulder and Morgana tips her head back, mouth open on a gasp. The taste of her a deluge on his tongue.

*

Morgana wakes to the sun shining through her sheer curtains same as ever. She rolls onto her side and sees Gwaine lying there – arms crossed behind his head, stupid grin plastered on his face. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

* * *

**26.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

"You know, I always thought you'd come back _before_ things went to absolute shit."

"I didn't know I would be coming back at all."

"I know." Another boom reverberated through the air, sounding a lot closer than the last. Merlin looked at Arthur meaningfully. "But your timing still sucks."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Whatever, just fucking _hurry up_." He waved impatiently in the general vacinity of Merlin's crotch.

"So impatient," Merlin huffed.

"Merlin, the world is about to end. The last thing _anyone_ has right now is _patience_."

"You've actually got a point this time," Merlin admitted, finally getting his fly undone. Arthur wasted no time in getting Merlin's cock out, not even bothering to pull Merlin's pants down much past his hips.

"Fuck," Merlin gasped, hips pitching forward of their own accord, his body reflexively searching out the warmth of Arthur's, pressed so close to his own.

Arthur made no move to restrain him, but simply tightened the ring of his fingers and let Merlin fuck into his fist. He leaned into Merlin's space, pressing them hip to hip, nuzzling into the curve of Merlin's neck, nipping lightly at his flushed skin. The angle was terrible for him and his wrist was starting to ache, but Merlin was clutching at him, muttering nonsense and encouragement both into his ear, and fuck, some aches and pains were the very least of their worries.

As if in answer to that thought, another explosion went off and this time, their whole building shook, the floor shifting under their feet. Merlin could feel the vibrations of the blast through the wall pressed hard and unforgiving against his back, could feel them resonate in his very bones. He thought that maybe they should relocate, but that thought was as fleeting as their estimated chance of survival, so he didn't bother voicing it.

Arthur was apparently of like mind, because he simply took the interruption as an excuse to slide to his knees, landing hard and gracelessly among the rubble at Merlin's feet. Just as eagerly as he had taken Merlin's cock into his hand, Arthur took the head into his mouth, already beginning to suck. Merlin shuddered at the sudden influx of sensation, hands scrabbling at the wall, searching for purchase and finding nothing but peeling paint under his fingertips. 

It took Merlin a moment to realize that Arthur's rhythm had faltered a bit, just a warm hum around him now, but by the time he could truly focus and look down at Arthur to check, one of Arthur's hands was already wrapped firmly around his own cock under his jeans, jerking himself off; his other hand Arthur wrapped around the base of Merlin's dick, guiding Merlin deeper into his mouth.

Once again, Arthur did nothing to restrain him, but Merlin was still holding back, still trying to stay composed. Arthur was just about to pull off for a moment to tell Merlin to _let go_ , when a third explosion rocked their building, sending smoke and debris in through the long-blown-out window. It was a testament to how accustomed they'd become to this world that Arthur's tempo barely faltered, that Merlin used the sudden shock of adrenaline to reach for Arthur, seeking him out by touch as the dust settled heavily around them.

Merlin's fingers tangled in hair that was gritty with dust, traced lines on skin dusted with ash; and he fucked into Arthur's mouth which was warm and welcoming like nothing in Merlin's life had been for _decades_.

He came as the dust cleared, was able to open his eyes and see Arthur's still closed as Arthur rode out the last waves of his own orgasm. He rose to his feet when he was finished, pinned Merlin bodily against the crumbling wall behind them, and Merlin held him while they waited. 

It was silent.


	2. Group B (warnings)

**27.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Gwen/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

It's a thing they have. Merlin prefers the blue crayons. They taste of something like chocolate. Arthur likes red. Gwen likes yellow. When they don't eat crayons, they fuck. Sometimes they read or play bridge or bingo, and Merlin gets that stabby ache in the side of his chest when the two of them put their heads together and

sometimes he forgets they're there. Then it's only crayons and the grey skies and the flower on the window sill that someone must have brought but he doesn't remember. It's an orchid, he knows that. But when he looks out at the street, who knows what place it is, what city, what country even. He thinks they have left one and gone to another but

Crayons. Happiness. Colours.

They kiss on the terrace. Arthur's lips and Gwen's hand on his crotch and his own on Arthur's. Tongues. They kiss until people pull them apart, and one moment to the next the clarity, memory, actual things that actually happened and that he remembers, and then they're gone again and he doesn't know much at all.

He has magic, he thinks. He holds out his hand at the sippy cup of the water, at Arthur's legs that don't work and Gwen's hip, and says things, but they aren't really words and they don't seem to work.

"You all right today, sir?" one of the people asks, as he's still reaching for Arthur's cock that's flopped out onto his thigh, wrinkled, and he tries to bend down but a hand on his shoulder stops him and presses a crayon into his hand instead. It doesn't taste of much. It doesn't taste of cock for sure. Arthur and Gwen don't talk anymore. They ceases existing a while ago.

He gets a hand around himself at night, and he gets glimpses of things then, horses and carriages and Arthur a handsome king. He tells someone the next day, not Arthur, not Gwen, and they tell him they're fine stories, those. Fine stories. 

Merlin holds hands with Gwen sometimes, as they eat, under the table, thumb rubbing over thumb and knuckles, having someone there who knows. And it's love and it's the time they shared in Paris when they'd been young, in Berlin, in Prague. The war and things before and after, making life work, hands on bodies, both Arthur and he fucking Gwen on the small cot that promptly broke and

they push Gwen out of the room to the other room with the big windows and the crayons and it's gone.

He'd remember if they could have it again. He'd get more than glimpses if he got his mouth on Arthur's cock or his face into Gwen's crotch. They'd be twenty again and dancing together, all three of them, they'd be older and stand as king and queen and advisor, they'd be people.

But they hand him crayons instead, and he likes the blue ones, and Arthur likes the red ones, and Gwen the yellow ones, and if he remembered, if they let him, he could draw them pictures and tell them who they were and still are, he'd paint them like living legends, the giants whose shoulders this world exists on. He can take himself in hand and squeeze and rub at his cock, try and remember their shapes and how they felt, how easy they fit together. How hard they fucked. 

He tries magic sometimes, and they try fucking sometimes.

But he forgets now. Easily. He knows the flower but doesn't know where he is. He knows who they are but he forgets what they feel like. He likes the blue crayons. They taste of something like chocolate. Maybe. Maybe they just taste of crayon.

* * *

**28.**

**Pairing:**  
Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

“Merlin!” 

Merlin poked his head around the corner. Arthur was grabbing their emergency bag. 

“Already?” Merlin asked, suddenly feeling tired. He was tired of running, of never being able to set roots down for longer than a week. 

“I don't know for sure, but it looked like one of Cendred's men. We can't take that risk.”

“Ok,” Merlin sighed, filling his pockets with money, his fake ID. He picked up the small model of a dragon and handed it to Arthur. Arthur smiled softly and put it gently in the bag, wrapping it in a t-shirt. 

The moment was broken from the unmistakable sound of a van coming down the street. Merlin and Arthur looked at each other and headed towards the back door. They walked through the alley behind the houses and emerged down the street. 

They turned the corner as Cenred's men broke down their door. They looked at each other, and ran.

~~

“America allows magic,” Arthur said. They were in an abandoned building – they had managed to find some cardboard boxes to sit on; everything else had been stripped of everything useful years ago. 

Someone had painted the words 'In war, truth is the first casualty' on one wall. Merlin wondered if the culprit had been caught. Punished. Merlin sighed as he realised how cynical war had made him. He shook off the memories. 

“The borders are still shut,” Merlin said automatically. 

“We might be able to get through. There's got to be ships. The war razed them to the ground, they have to be importing something.” 

Merlin hummed non-commitally and whispered the words to conjure a fire. Arthur jumped, and glared. 

“You shouldn't,” he said. 

“The sensors won't pick up something this small.” Merlin coaxed it higher, holding his hands up to warm them. Arthur grumbled but moved closer. 

“We may as well try,” Arthur said. Merlin smiled, he knew Arthur wouldn't give up that easily. 

“Get to Portsmouth. Hope that we can – what – bribe a guard?”

“It's worth a try,” Arthur insisted. Merlin looked at Arthur. He was at his most handsome like this; fire in his eyes, determined to do the right thing, and Merlin's chest ached. He had expected Arthur to bail on him before now. He was a Mundane, and he had no reason to stay on the run. He could integrate into the population, could tell Cenred he had been enchanted. Instead he had chosen to stay by Merlin's side, had put most of their contingency plans in place. 

Merlin had only told Arthur part of what he had been forced to do in the war. He hated to think what Arthur would do if he knew the full story. In some ways the change to nuclear weaponry had been a godsend for Merlin and other magic users.

“I love you,” Merlin said. Arthur blinked. 

“I love you too,” he replied. Merlin moved closer and pulled Arthur into a kiss. 

Arthur slipped a hand up Merlin's shirt, and Merlin shuddered. Merlin knew Arthur could count Merlin's ribs, but his thoughts scattered when Arthur thumbed at Merlin's nipples.

Their breath condensed in the cool air between them as they panted, pulling at buttons and zips. Arthur pushed Merlin to the floor, straddling him. Merlin grinned up at Arthur, groping at Arthur's arse. 

Arthur wrapped his hand around their erections, knowing they couldn't afford too much foreplay in this situation. Merlin closed his eyes and focused on the shocking coolness of Arthur's fingers around him, pulling his orgasm closer to the surface. 

They smothered their moans in each others mouths, not wanting to bring any attention to themselves. 

~~

“Portsmouth?” Merlin asked. “That's what – a week's travel?”

“Give or take,” Arthur said, as if he hadn't got their route already planned. “You want to try then?”

“Got nowhere else to go,” Merlin replied. 

Arthur's grin was blinding.

* * *

**29.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Rough and unsafe (but consensual) sex, zombies. 

The battered Landcruiser Merlin, Morgana and Gwen left in this morning heaves itself over the last ridge in the rutted track to the camp, and Arthur, on guard duty, can't let himself breathe a sigh of relief in front of Lancelot or Morgause, but internally something untwists. When they pull up and pile out of the vehicle, Arthur has to keep holding himself back. This is the test, after all. This is the password, the thing that the infected can't fake. 

Merlin's eyes are sparkling, the little fucking pyromaniac. Arthur's guts unwind a little bit further. Then Merlin grabs him by the back of the neck and drags him in for a hungry kiss, thank-god-we-lived, thank-god-you're-here, and Arthur knows that everything's good. Not that he gets a chance to say anything, because Merlin won't let go, just starts walking backwards, fingers of one hand tangled in Arthur's too-long hair, the other hand already fumbling for Arthur's fly. 

Years ago this would have been taboo, people would have frowned. Now the second shift on guard duty is coming up and Gwaine high-fives Arthur as he passes, Morgana already has Morgause pressed up against a wall, too high on surviving to be bothered about their audience, and Gwen has dragged Lance off the same way Merlin's dragging Arthur - and everyone they pass is happy, relieved, _pleased_ to see their patrol home safe and getting frisky. Because frisky means _human_. 

Merlin gets Arthur back to their barely-structurally-sound hut and shoves him through the door. The room inside is so tiny that Arthur falls back on the mattress immediately, tripped up two steps backwards. He sprawls back on his elbows and Merlin's on him immediately, straddling, grinding, stripping his own shirt off. 

There's a nick in his temple, smudge of brown-black blood snaking down across his cheek, another over his collarbone. His knuckles are muddy. His eyes are so dilated they're black, only the faintest ring of electric blue like chain lightning at the edges, and Arthur's so hard he might faint from bloodloss of his own. 

'Should have been there,' Merlin growls, ripping Arthur's shirt open and lifting up to do the same to his pants, wrestling with them like they're the enemy and right now Arthur agrees with him, hooking his fingers into the back of Merlin's jeans and trying to drag them off or make them disappear out of sheer willpower. 'It was fucking sweet. Textbook. Fuck, I love C4. Whole warren gone. Dropped three floors worth of reinforced concrete on them. Ugh. Jesus, what's - c'mon, Arthur, I need your cock _right now_ -' and Arthur gets Merlin's jeans down far enough to appreciate the crisis-level lack of underwear this apocalypse has brought them to. 

Apocalypse also means a lack of lube, a lack of condoms, so Arthur yanks Merlin around and pulls him down. He's loose because they fucked this morning, like they always do, in case they never get to again, and he tastes of harsh soap and sweat when Arthur licks at him, puts his fingers up and starts to push-pull him open, eat him out. 

Arthur loves this, loves the closeness of it, being this intimate, and he loses himself in it until Merlin groans and sinks down, his plush, bitten-bruised mouth closing around Arthur's cock. He doesn't suck to get Arthur off, just licks and mouths and drools until Arthur can feel wetness dripping onto his balls, and then Arthur nudges, one last long, lingering, longing lick, and pushes him away. 

'Love you,' Arthur tells him, huskily. He never used to say that. Never would have. Never even let Merlin touch him in public, except then the dead woke and everyone had fight and the only way anyone got through it was to latch onto the people they loved and never let them go. Arthur's lost a lot of people. He's fucked if he'll lose Merlin for lack of showing him how loved, how fucking adored and worshipped and wanted he is. So now he says it every day.

'Love you too,' Merlin says breathlessly, sinking onto Arthur's cock. 'Now fuck me like you mean it.'

Merlin rides him like they're in a race, and Arthur snaps his hips and watches Merlin writhe and lean back to get a better angle, hands on ankles and cock jutting out red and untouched and when Merlin comes Arthur licks it off his own lips and Merlin clenches and Arthur comes and it's all sweat and dirt and love, always love.

* * *

**30.**

**Pairing:** Freya/Gwaine  
 **Warnings:** None

They knew the asteroid was coming. Not much in advance, but enough to build the _Avalon_ , load it with the planet's best and brightest, and slingshot it into space toward the nearest habitable planet.

They broke the living quarters up into smaller communities, to foster friendship and bonding. "Fucking," Gwaine says, as they all lounge about the common room drinking Elena's contraband home-brewed wine. "That's what they mean. They want us to start making moon eyes and fucking each other's brains out. Can't repopulate the stars without babies, right?"

He's sure there are people on the _Avalon_ who are fine with that idea, but it all seems a bit clinical and uncomfortable to Gwaine. Still, there's Elena's wine, and good company, and the brilliant shine of the stars through the common room window. All in all, he figures the apocalypse could be a hell of a lot worse.

~

Gwaine slides in beside Freya and offers her an apple, crisp and pink-skinned. She barely glances at it. "No thanks. Not hungry."

He keeps his smile on, keeps his hand out. "Eat it later, then."

"The generated apples get soft if you let them sit," she says impatiently. "Thank you, but—"

"It's not generated." He takes her hand and puts the apple in it, lets her feel the weight and the slick texture of the skin that the generator just can't quite get right, no matter how Elyan tinkers with it.

She stares at it, and then at him. "How?"

"It's my personal item."

"You brought an _apple tree_ —"

"It's a hybrid. Miniaturized, but still grows full-size fruit. My own design," he adds proudly when she continues to gape.

She closes her fingers around the apple. It takes her a bit longer to close her mouth. "I'm not going to fuck you just because I'm supposed to feel some obligation to pop out kids for the good of mankind."

Gwaine's smile falls off his face. "Whoa. It's an apple, not a commitment. I thought you might like it."

She remains dubious, but when Gwaine reaches to take it back, she keeps it and bites into it decisively.

~

He meant what he said. Still, he can't say he's not pleased when another month of flirting and a bit of Elena's wine suddenly has her wrapped around him like an octopus as he carries her back to his berth.

"Wait." She pushes his hands off even as she sucks a hickey onto his neck. He drops onto the edge of his berth so she's straddling him, free to leave whenever she wants. "I'm not fucking you, dammit."

"Okay," he says, and she rears back and blinks at him like it's the last thing she expected.

~

She's free with her kisses, but freezes whenever his hands trail past her waist. "Frey," he whispers one night when she keeps pulling them away from her hips, but pins him and shoves her tongue down his throat every time he tries to put distance between them. "If you don't want a baby, all you have to do is say so."

She freezes. Her face goes soft and vulnerable, and her eyes shine with tears. "I don't want a baby," she whispers like it's some terrible secret. "I can't—"

He silences her with a kiss, swallows the startled noise she makes against his mouth. "I'd make a terrible father, anyway," he says, and when she gives a wet laugh, he swallows that, too. "Do you want me?"

" _Yes._ Christ. But—"

He knows. There aren't any contraceptives on the _Avalon_. "It's okay," he whispers and rolls her onto her back. "It's okay," he soothes when he presses his mouth to her sex, when she grabs his hair and pulls him in hard against her.

Later, he wraps her in his arms as he moves three fingers inside her, whispering against her ear about how beautiful she is, how much he wants to make her feel good. And finally, the pinched worry eases out of her expression and pure, simple pleasure floods over her face. 

Later, he thinks, when the frantic need has died, he'll bring her apples in bed and suck the juice off her lips and show her all the ways they can take and give pleasure, without ever risking a child. Later. Right now, he just wants to hold her close and kiss her through her orgasm.

It may be the end of the world, but it feels like the start of something new.

* * *

**31.**

**Pairing:** Gwen/Servant Girl 

**Warnings:** Implied underage, lots of character death prior to story’s start

Her brother’s death had been the beginning, though Gwen hadn’t realized it. Other knights fell, one by one, and she still didn’t want to believe Morgana’s curse, whispered to her as they parted for the last time. _“I will be back for what’s mine. And your death.”_

Then everything grew more dire. Arthur died.

People began to sicken, young and old, rich and poor. Merlin disappeared to find a cure and never returned. The plague rampaged through all of England, leaving a mere handful of people alive. 

The fight to retain her rightful place on Camelot’s throne continued until the day her people realized she was all they had. A tentative peace settled over her tiny kingdom, but Gwen knew in her heart that the respite was brief, that Morgana had somehow seen to it that every person who walked the earth would soon perish. 

Gwen sat in front of her mirror, not really seeing her reflection. The door opened and she startled. “Merlin?” escaped her lips and died when she turned to face the intruder.

It was a servant, a young woman, a mere slip of a girl really, who Gwen had not seen before. She held a bucket and a scrub brush in her hands. “N-no, m’lady. You’re Highness. Sorry,” she said, shuffling back, her long black hair falling around her face. 

A pang sliced through Gwen; she’d been this girl once. “It’s all right. I could use company beyond my own reflection.” She held out her hand. “Come so I can see you. What is your name?”

The girl set her pail and scrub brush down and came closer, her face still hidden. “Your Highness, I dare not speak my name for fear you will send me away.” 

The girl raised her face just enough to look at Gwen. A gasp, quickly stifled, escaped her. The girl was absolutely beautiful. Eyes as blue as cornflowers, her pale skin flawless but for the faint flush on her cheeks. The girl bit her lip, and Gwen’s eyes focused unbidden on the simple, endearing gesture. An unexpected heat passed through her and she realized, startled by the intensity of it and the rich ache between her legs, that she wanted to bed this girl. 

Gwen rose. “I won’t send you away. I want you to stay.” 

“Are you lonely?”

“Yes. I am.” 

Gwen smiled at the sudden dawning in the girl’s eyes. Near bewitched by her beauty, Gwen eased the girl’s dress from her body and led her to the bed. She lay her on the silken bedding and it took much too long for Gwen to be free of her cursed bindings so she could lay, skin to skin, along the girl’s length.

“What is your name?” she prodded.

“Not yet.”

She covered the girl’s tender mouth, excitement tingling through her as the girl responded to each kiss and thrust of her tongue. As if of its own accord her hand slid down the flat, soft plane of the girl’s stomach and between her legs. Gwen knew she’d found what she’d sought when the girl flinched and moaned in pleasure, twisting from side to side but not away from Gwen, her hands seeking Gwen too, to return the pleasures Gwen gave her. 

Never had Gwen felt such delicious control combined with such pleasure as they took turns, kissing and stroking and exploring each other’s bodies. She was invaded, and yet felt cherished in a way no man, even Arthur, had ever made her feel. It was as if the girl was taking her apart and then reconstructing her with hand, with mouth, with her gaze. Every time the girl glanced at Gwen, an easy, playful smile on her lips, Gwen’s heart lurched; she’d missed this, this carefree taking and giving, this sweet release. 

She wished it would never end but as the girl knelt over Gwen, pinning her at the wrists, her dark hair brushing across Gwen’s breasts, the end came most unexpectedly when the folds of Gwen’s lust-filled gaze parted to reveal the truth. But even then, as she panted and ached and wanted more, she wanted to deny what she saw.

“You’re name,” Gwen gasped. “What is it?” But as she took her last breath, she knew.

“Morgana.”

* * *

There is a place somewhere in England called Camelot, once a beautiful, mighty kingdom that now stands empty, save for one sole survivor, Queen Morgana. She finally had what she’d always wanted.

Or did she?

* * *

**32.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** bad crack, even worse puns, possibly worse 'apocalypse' scenario, barebacking

“Seriously?” Arthur looks up at the sky with an expression that’s somehow torn between disdain, amusement, and disbelief. “I get called out of Avalon for _this_?” 

Merlin tries to keep a straight face, he really does, but between his relief at seeing Arthur again and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, he feels light with giddiness. “Are you really complaining?”

Arthur swears as he wades through the flood waters. “So I can sleep through World War II,” he says, making his way to the high point on the hill, “but the sharknado comes and apparently it’s time to break out the big guns.”

“The big guns?” The giggles he’d been trying to hold in erupt in a high-pitched stream. “You’ve been sleeping for nearly a hundred years.”

Arthur turns, his face so serious that Merlin’s laughter dies in a sudden onslaught of worry. “What?”

“Do you suppose not getting laid in this lifetime means I’m technically a virgin?”

Merlin just blinks. “Really?” He gestures around them wildly. “A good portion of Los Angeles is underwater, there are _literally sharks in the sky_ , and people are throwing bombs into tornadoes. You’re choosing _now_ to worry about whether not having a dick up your arse in the past century makes you a virgin?” 

Arthur’s smirk is blinding. “Honestly, Merlin. It’s going to be embarrassing enough if I die trying to save the world from a sharknado. I’d never be able to show my face again if I die a _virgin_ to boot.”

Merlin doesn’t know why he’s surprised, frankly. He spares a brief moment to send some choice words to Freya and whoever else kept his prat for a century only to let him out for this and then waves his hand, procuring a bottle of lube from thin air. “Come on, then,” he says, grinning. “We haven’t got all day.”

Arthur takes the lube gleefully and lays them down on the wet grass, mouthing at Merlin’s neck. “Any Pacific requests?”

It takes a moment for the pun to set in (to be fair, Arthur’s lips on his neck and fingers rubbing at his hole would distract anyone) but when it does, Merlin’s whole body shakes with laughter. “Really? A veritable _sea_ of shark related puns and you go with that?”

“Not going to rise to the bait?”

God, but he’s missed this idiot. Merlin rolls his eyes, the giddiness in his chest near painful, and pulls him in for a frantic kiss. “I’m shore we could do this all day,” Merlin says when they break away, panting and beaming like loons, “but we do have a slight situation to attend to.”

“Do you mean the sharks in the sky or this?” Arthur says, cupping Merlin’s half-hard cock.

Merlin arches his back, revelling in the sensation. God, it’s really been far too long. “Whale,” he says, unable to resist, “you were the one that insisted on sex before saving the world, so if you’re quite done with the puns –” He cuts himself off with a satisfied gasp as a slick finger breaches him.

He tries to keep things light as Arthur stretches him, focusing on the ridiculous present and cheesy puns and the wonderful feeling of Arthur’s fingers up his bum instead of death and Avalon and so much waiting. Arthur either senses this or is just as blessedly oblivious as ever, for instead of murmuring ‘ _I’ve missed you_ ’s and ‘ _I hate being away so long_ ’s, he’s keeping a running commentary of increasingly silliness, even as he lines himself up and slides into Merlin with a groan.

“If you can still focus on words enough to make stupid puns,” Merlin says between moans and gasps, squirming under Arthur’s body pressing his into the wet ground and the splay of palms on his hips and the feeling of being wonderfully filled with Arthur, “then you’re definitely too rusty.”

Arthur retaliates by biting at Merlin’s collarbone, leaving a mark that Merlin can already tell will bruise, and fucking him at an unrelenting pace. He comes after only a dozen or so thrusts and it only takes a few more pumps on Merlin’s neglected cock before he follows.

They separate, sticky, sweaty, and sated, and grin at one another. “Satisfied?” Merlin asks when he can breathe again, wiping the come from his stomach as he slides his trousers back on with a grimace.

“Come on,” Arthur says. “Let’s go turn the tide on these sharks.”

* * *

**33.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** CRACK (Unashamedly based on 'That Mitchell and Webb Look')  
Character death, (comedy) violence,  & mental health issues in accordance with post-apocalyptic setting

_”You’re watching the British Emergency Broadcasting System. Do not be alarmed by the smell. It’s seventeen thousand New British Hours since The Event, and time for The Quiz Broadcast.”_

“Hello, remain indoors and welcome.” Arthur Pendragon, the dashing host of The Quiz Broadcast, jogged showily onto the mostly brown set. He grinned his show-grin – forced, not quite reaching his eyes, but mostly hiding the fear of Them.

Merlin could sympathise. Though everyone was scared of Them, he and Arthur were two of the only people he knew who had actually seen Them up close. It had been a good thing Arthur had his pistol on him, and both had since heeded their own show’s warnings to remain indoors, not wanting to risk it again.

“Please join me in welcoming our three surviving contestants: Merlin, Gwen and Mordred.” The canned applause lasted a few seconds longer than necessary as they attempted to smile in the direction of the cameras, and cut off abruptly.

Merlin had been on the show since The Event. At first it had been in hopes of winning some extra food – especially as each emergency food ration grew smaller – but as time went on he found he couldn’t bear to leave Arthur on his own. By this point the only things that would be able to drag him away would be Them or a second Event. Gwen had been on the show for a while but was not doing so well – her mental health had seriously deteriorated in the previous few sessions of voltage calming. Mordred was new.

“Will there be food?” Merlin asked. He was growing desperate. “I ate my left sleeve.”

Arthur let out his false show-laugh. “Yes, of course! Only if you win though!”

At this, Mordred raised his head and started to let out a low, rattling gurgle. His eyes glowed blood-red and he eyed the other contestants hungrily. Within moments a bullet hurtled out of the gloom and directly into his temple, killing him instantly.

Arthur, to his credit, didn’t even flinch – by now it would take very little to dent his on-air persona. Merlin, however, had to try very hard to swallow back the vomit that had made itself known in his mouth, and Gwen started crying hysterically, unable to tear her eyes away. Two men in uniform appeared on the set and grabbed one of her arms each, dragging her towards a wooden door that Merlin had never been through.

“Well, it looks like that might be all we have time for this week, folks”, Arthur grinned, “so we’ll see you next week! Don’t forget to stay calm, remain indoors, and follow the regulations!”

As soon as the blinking red lights on the cameras stopped, Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand and dragged him away. This was their only escape, their only way of getting through this.

Sometimes it failed; sometimes they spent hours biting and scratching, pushing and pulling and thrusting, dicks hard and arseholes sore and full of fingers and still – still, the images remained. The death, the desolation, the absolute fucking wreckage.

But maybe this time, Merlin thought, as he thrust roughly inside Arthur with minimal preparation, maybe this time would be enough. Maybe holding Arthur’s hands behind his back, rendering him incapable of movement, would be enough to distract him from the grin he had to hold in the face of utter tragedy when he was hosting. Maybe the clench of Arthur’s arse cheeks around his cock would be enough to make Merlin forget the devastating loss of everyone he held dear, the numbing fear that he was next.

Maybe this time they’d be able to lose themselves in one another enough to forget The Event.

Maybe.

* * *

**34.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Dub-con of the sex pollen variety

“How did this even happen, Gauis?” 

Gauis’ sigh was weary and slightly guilty. “I sent him out to pick some rare herbs, Sire. I didn’t know that they would affect him like this.” Merlin moaned and gasped as though in pain, the sheets on the bed rustling as he twisted and thrashed. “The translation was hazy, but Geoffrey was able to read it. There is no cure but to draw it out of his system. If it’s not done soon, he will die.”

Arthur drew in a sharp breath. 

“I’m sorry, Sire,” Gauis said over the sounds of Merlin’s moans. “There’s nothing that I can do for him. The only solution is --”

“Yes,” Arthur interrupted. His mouth tightened in concern as Merlin’s noises grew louder and more desperate. “You’re sure this is the only way?”

Gauis just nodded and looked miserably into the prince’s bedchamber, where Merlin writhed and twisted on the bed, one hand fluttering over his body as the other jerked frantically at his cock.

Arthur rubbed a hand across his face and stepped into the bedchamber, where Merlin sprawled, naked and wanting, upon his bed. Merlin’s cries and moans had continued unabated, his face twisted in agonized pleasure as his hips bucked and his hand flew over his straining erection. Arthur’s breath caught when he realized that Merlin’s other hand had traveled down past his balls, and he had three fingers buried deep in his body. He made a decision.

“Leave us,” he commanded, reaching for the fastenings to his armor.

“Sire?” 

“Please, Gauis,” Arthur said gently. “I have to save him.”

Gauis nodded and drew a vial from his robe pocket. Setting it down on the table with a click, he retreated from the room, locking the door behind him. Picking it up, Arthur continued toward the bed, disrobing as he went, and settled next to Merlin’s hip.

Merlin’s eyes glinted in the fading light from the window, and he rolled into Arthur, rubbing wantonly against him. “Arthur,” he moaned. “Feel...so good...”

“Merl -- Umph!” Using strength Arthur didn’t know he had, Merlin grabbed Arthur’s shoulders and pulled him down beside him, rolling them until Merlin was straddling the prince’s hips. Merlin moaned in relief as he ground down.

“Merlin,” Arthur gasped. Reaching up, he drew Merlin’s head down and crushed their lips together. Merlin moaned at the contact and rolled his hips against Arthur’s harding cock. For a few moments, Arthur was content to continue as they were, kissing and rutting against each other; but he knew this wouldn’t be enough.

Reaching for the vial of oil on the bed, he coated his fingers and dipped them down into Merlin’s body, moaning as Merlin cried out and rocked his hips hardest against them. Prepping him was short work. Merlin was obviously been working himself earlier.

Lining his cock up against Merlin’s hole, Arthur pushed in, drinking in the whimpering moans that fell from Merlin’s mouth. His hips stuttered as he sank in, and Arthur groaned as he was enveloped in wet heat. Finally bottoming out, he paused and looked down.

Merlin gazed back with bright blue eyes blown wide in bliss. He wrapped his legs around Arthur’s waist and _pulled_ , demanding that Arthur start moving. Arthur’s hips snapped in a bruising rhythm, and they lost themselves in the push and pull of their bodies as they spiraled towards orgasm.

* * *

**35.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin, Merlin/Lancelot  
 **Warnings:** Non-con, Character Death

The hall is full and loud with laughter and jest, but Merlin spots him immediately, shining golden and bright, unmistakeable. Arthur is carefree, laughing. He gestures with a chicken drumstick as he speaks to his neighbor at the high table.

"More wine?" Merlin asks, pitcher in hand and Arthur raises his cup without turning. 

Merlin plays the attentive servant. He fills Arthur's cup, fixed on his every motion, waiting for the slightest hint. Arthur's eyes pass over him as if he was stone or not there at all.

He expected as much. It does nothing to ease the lump in his throat.

***

Merlin hears water in the walls, or behind them, all the time now, a constant running that colors every moment he spends locked in the fortress. He cannot tell day or night but at times he is returned to Camelot - to the hall of wonders where the warriors feast.

Too often now he is unsure of where or when he is.

Sometimes he lights his dank cell with pictures of dragons and fantastic creatures and basks in the glow until he can sleep.

***

He has time now to think, to reflect on the pain he caused and the pain that drove - drives - him. Years of wandering, sailing the western seas, searching the northern mountains, studying forgotten tomes, working magic so dark he is only glad it yielded nothing.

When the gift was offered, it was so simple he cried.

***

In their long glittering halls, Morgana is set like a dark gem in a crown. She does not see him and he can only be grateful for that mercy.

***

He wakes confused, lost in the past, dreaming he hears Lancelot calling him. Then he remembers the stone of the tree, the gathering mist, the lamp-lighted door.

Lips touch his and he surges against them, welcoming the pressure. He reaches, and feels hands in his hair, strength and gentleness. It is warm and human, so real he is instantly awake and achingly hard.

Lancelot - for it _is_ Lancelot - is rubbing him, rough through the fabric of his trousers. He shuts out all noise, the terrible humming of bees, and focuses on Lancelot's his tongue in his mouth, tasting and breathing each sensation as a man dying of thirst drinks water.

"Come," Lancelot says, and he does. The buzzing dies away. Merlin opens his eyes and sees a door where there was only stone.

***

Of course, there is always a price. They might let him out of one prison, only to put him in another. At least this one is something he can do. Merlin knows secret places, deep caves and ancient cursed castles.

He brings them the horn, the hilt, the hamper, the halter and the chariot before he grows tired of the game. Then he shakes the earth so hard that the sea rises up and fire sprouts from the ground.

They build a glass tower for his treasure, a paradise where pretty girls serve sweetmeats and wash his feet. But Merlin escapes that prison too.

***

Arthur is on the beach when he comes out of the hill. A cold breeze is blowing off the lake and Arthur is wrapped in a blue cloak and looks younger than Merlin even remembers him.

His look is quizzical, as if he is trying to remember something far away and Merlin swallows, suddenly wrong-footed.

"Your Highness," he tries, and Arthur's eyes go blank. "Arthur!"

Something, but it's not enough. Merlin reaches out and pulls Arthur to him with his magic because he can - and there, _there_ \- Arthur shakes and recoils and that is the most reaction he has seen from him so far. He strips his clothes with a word and Arthur tries to run, but he binds him with magic cords, invisible but strong as iron.

It's so wrong but he is filled with joy by the way Arthur bends away from him, like a tree in a high wind, fear in his eyes.

"Arthur," he says again and again, calling him back from wherever he is, as he spreads his thighs, as he licks and sucks his cock, his hands roaming freely, calling with every ounce of power.

When Arthur comes in his mouth, he starts to cry, and Merlin pulls back. The taste of salt in his mouth makes him sick and horrified.

"Oh," Arthur says, "Oh, Merlin." And then he smiles. "You're here."

* * *

**36.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** mild dub con (to be on the safe side)

"At least tell me your name. To whom do I owe my life?" Arthur asked as he followed a young, handsome priest-in-training along a long, cold corridor inside the Venetian monastery. 

"Merlin," the man said reluctantly, looking at Arthur with a strange expression as he let him into a room. The room was small, modest compared to the extravagance Arthur associated with the Church. But _Merlin_ , clearly didn't get into the profession for reasons of wealth. 

"I’ll be in the chapel," Merlin said, leaving Arthur in the silence of the dusty room. 

Sitting down on the bed, Arthur thought about how unfair life was that the man that granted him sanctuary was gorgeous but had taken a vow of celibacy. 

Arthur realized this was Merlin’s room; letters addressed to him were on the table. Natural curiosity taking over, he opened the diary he found underneath the bed, flipping the pages to the last entry; "Apocalypse" it was called, and began reading. 

_I had the dream again last night. This time, I didn't wake up before... it happened._

_God forgive me this terrible sin. But I wanted him. I still want him._

_He kissed every inch of my body, kisses both feather-light and wet. He took the tip of my cock in his mouth, sucking it lightly, then taking in more and more until my I arched upwards into his amazing mouth. Fingers, slick and smooth, they entered my body, pressing deep inside to a place where a mere graze is enough to ignite me._

He wasn't supposed to read this, but he couldn't stop, hand already on his cock.

_He fucked me and I begged him to go harder, faster until he spilled his seed inside of me._

_It was glorious. This man whose face I have never seen, I need him. I think I might die without him._

_But maybe dying is better than having the prophecy become true..._

Arthur couldn’t help it, spilling over his hand before he noticed Merlin standing in the doorway…

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled, getting to his feet and trying to cover his cock.

But Merlin didn't look like he was angry at Arthur’s invasion of privacy or his desecration of the church.

He looked like he was going to faint. "Arthur," Merlin muttered, before plummeting to the floor. Arthur lurched forward to catch him, realizing as he did, that he never told Merlin his name…

Merlin lay sprawled across the floor, looking pale and ill. From feeling his forehead, Arthur knew he had a fever. Suddenly Merlin’s hand was on top of his, holding it as if it were a lifeline. 

“Merlin, what's going on... Why are you sick?"

"The dreams," Merlin rasped, "you read the dreams, didn't you?" Merlin gestured to the notebook lying discarded on the floor. 

Arthur blushed. "Yes."

"They're true."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, a feeling of apprehension creeping up on him. He freed his hands from Merlin’s grasp. "Merlin. Why is your diary called 'apocalypse'?"

"Because I was cursed.” Merlin said bitterly, “Cursed to fall in love with a man who could never love me back, destined to either bring the world to its premature end or... sleep with this man, this impossible lover.”

"That's ridiculous. There's no such thing as curses,” but as he said it, Arthur knew something was wrong. Merlin’s breathing was slowing down, his temperature rising further. 

"You're dying. Why are you dying?!" Arthur said, afraid to touch Merlin again but desperately wanting to. 

"Because it's you Arthur.” Merlin said, voice getting weaker, “I knew when we shook hands tonight. The prophecy is being fulfilled."

Arthur growled, hands grabbing hold of Merlin’s, watching the man’s eyes widen. "I fell for you the moment you opened that door, you beautiful, beautiful man. You fulfilled your own prophecy fleeing into this profession, making it ungodly to love you.”

His hands travelled to Merlin’s face, bending closer and leaving a kiss on those pale lips. He smiled. “It's a good thing I don't believe in god.”

Touch by touch, kiss by kiss, Merlin started to become alive again, moaning and licking into Arthur’s mouth as if he wished to devour him whole. 

"I’m going to do everything that man did to you,” Arthur whispered. 

"You _are_ that man, Arthur, Arthur..."

It was the last either of them spoke, as they fell into a mess of tangled limbs. Afterwards, Merlin fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Finding comfort in Arthur’s arms and the knowledge that tomorrow there was going to be a new dawn.

* * *

**37.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None  


Arthur couldn’t stop pacing, worrying his fingertips against his teeth in frustration as Merlin laid sick and shivering in a pile of blankets, still four days’ ride from Camelot. Two days had passed since their encounter with the witch who had cursed him. Arthur’s attempts to hurry home had slowed as Merlin grew weaker. 

Looking over, Arthur saw Merlin struggling just to sit up from beneath his blankets. The painful clench in Arthur’s chest stalled him, before he hurried over to help Merlin and give him some water.

“We must remember what the witch said.” Merlin managed barely a whisper, “The antidote.”

Oh, Arthur had been thinking of nothing but those words - ingrained as soon as the witch had spoken, ‘Only the touch of a noble knight, given of the purest love, will heal him.’ 

“We’re set for the antidote’s first half,” Arthur stated with a characteristic smirk, managing a smile from Merlin. 

Then Merlin’s gaze fell. Arthur watched him bite his bottom lip before wheezing out, “It’s just the second half we may be lacking.”

Arthur’s throat tightened with the need to console, fingers curled with the need to hold, but this was exactly the part causing him agony. 

Truthfully, Arthur knew he fulfilled both requirements. But he had never planned on revealing the true nature of his feelings, and under these circumstances, an already unthinkable task became truly Herculean.

As Arthur led their horses on foot, Merlin thought aloud as he rode bundled up, “I’m quite close with Lancelot and Gwaine. Perhaps one of them can fulfill the antidote.”  
Arthur cursed himself for the ugly burn of jealousy behind his heart.

Arthur knew he was the one who could break the curse. He just had to find a way, around the minefield of want but you will never, ever have that he had long sealed around his feelings for Merlin.

That night, Arthur stood facing away as Merlin shivered in front of the fire. Finally, Arthur demanded, “Why aren’t you angry with me?”

Merlin slowly lifted his head. “About what?”

“That I won’t try breaking the curse myself.”

“I’m just a servant, Sire.” Arthur could imagine Merlin huddling farther down in his blankets. “You’re not just a knight, you’re a prince. You would know your own mind, your own feelings. There’s no reason for you to lower yourself in the attempt if you know it will be fruitless.”

“Damn it, Merlin.” Arthur finally whirled around, stalking closer. “What rubbish! I thought you knew me better, you utter fool.” And Arthur kneeled down, took Merlin’s face between his hands, and kissed him purposefully. He’d taken the plunge, but Arthur knew with relief he’d done right.

Merlin’s eyes were unfocused, questioning when Arthur pulled back. Where Arthur cupped his face, his thumb brushed Merlin’s cheek. “It’s me, you great idiot. Though I’m a fool as well, for not telling you immediately. If you can forgive me for wasting precious time…”

A slow smile recalled the color to Merlin’s face. He touched the back of one of Arthur’s hands. “Of course,” he whispered, and Arthur was transfixed. 

Arthur settled Merlin in the blankets, leaving a small, tender kiss on his lips as he started peeling Merlin’s clothes away.

“I’ll admit I’m frightened, Merlin,” Arthur murmured against the soft skin of Merlin’s navel, as he removed Merlin’s trousers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, it can’t hurt worse than dying.” They shared soft laughter, familiar ground, as Arthur undressed. Merlin breathed deeply as Arthur’s warm, wide body settled close. “Feeling your touch, inside…it could never hurt.” Arthur shivered, arousal spiking and hardness growing.

Taking account for Merlin’s weakened state, Arthur’s touch was feather light as he trailed kisses down Merlin’s chest and stomach. In between Merlin’s legs, Arthur cupped Merlin’s thighs and lifted them back, so his lips could map the vulnerable inside of Merlin’s thighs. Merlin arched slightly, with a breathy sound that stole Arthur’s sanity.

Slick fingers eased in, and then Arthur himself was sinking into the place where Merlin was still warm after his limbs had grown cold. Arthur kept one ear attuned to the sounds Merlin produced, ensuring he wasn’t in pain. Instead, the sounds of pure rapture along with Merlin’s sweet, intoxicating tightness made Arthur’s toes curl.

Merlin regained some color and warmth, but received several more treatments. As they neared Camelot, Merlin confessed, “I was healed after the first time. I could feel it.”

Arthur just smiled, bemused. “I’ll take it that’s your own strange method of saying you love me too.”

* * *

**38.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Mordred, Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** serious dub-con, canon!bending; a bit dark, really

He thrust, and thrust again, eyes tight shut, all his being focused on finishing, on ending it—

A hand wrapped around his chin, smooth fingers against the grain of his stubble. “Slowly,” Mordred whispered in his ear, an intimacy he'd never earned; “We must enjoy ourselves, or the magic is lost.”

Merlin opened his eyes, and though his breath came short, though his hips slowed and his shoulders shook with the strain of giving pleasure, his gaze spoke nothing but pain tempered and made steel by poisonous hate.

“Reach further,” Mordred said, spread out heedlessly beneath him, a feast laid over blue sheets. His hands were languid as they stroked over Merlin's chest; his lips were red as he caught them between his teeth. “You hold too much back, Merlin. Release yourself.”

Merlin bowed his head to the frissons sparking in his skin under Mordred's touch, and pushed deeper, Mordred's body folding easily around his own, pulling him further into slick heat.

 

The fields had been frozen, after the fires of battle had died. Arthur's skin had been cold to match; his lips no longer able to hold the warmth Merlin pressed upon them in panicked desperation.

“You may yet save him,” Mordred had said, laying aside his sword. He had spoken of magic, of the sacred heat between two bodies, and Merlin had been wandering in the dark for long enough to hear the truth in it, to ignore the feeble warnings of his own heart.

 

Arthur lay beside them on the bed, near enough to touch, though Merlin could not bring himself to reach a hand out. He could not have said which fear held him back: that Arthur lay cold still, unchanged, or that he might wake to find Merlin lying spent in Mordred's arms. Merlin spread his knees, dug his fingers into Mordred's hair as an anchor while he gave his body up to the magic. It was growing between them, washing along their muscles as they groaned and thrust, slipping underneath their mingled sweat. The smell of it was sharp in the air, as copper as blood, at odds with the sweeter musk of sex, and as it lifted him up Merlin felt it dull his mind, wrapping him in a numbing shroud. Mordred's legs were locked hard around his waist, Mordred's body clenched hot and tight around his cock; Mordred's words and the nip of his teeth were on his lips—but Merlin felt none of it. Something had severed the very threads of him, and his broken ends flew free, out of his grasp even had he wished to reach for them.

 

“Close now,” Mordred gasped, and set his teeth in Merlin's shoulder, dragged his nails down Merlin's spine. “Can't you feel it, Merlin? Can you taste the power?”

Merlin could, though he had closed his eyes and mouth against it. He could not pretend Mordred was anyone else—Arthur's scent, the confidence in his movements and the soft noises he made deep within his throat: those were utterly distinct—but his body was a traitor to the memories, calling them unbidden as it bore him over the crest. Mordred shuddered and shouted in his grasp, exultant, and the noise kept the sob in Merlin's chest a secret. The end, when it came, tore over him in a pitiless wave, sweeping his bones from him like water, and he offered everything he could bear in sacrifice, in foolish hope.

 

“Will he wake?”

Mordred did not pause. “You know the Old Magic,” he said, buckling on his sword in smooth, practiced movements. “You'll find out soon enough.”

Merlin did not watch him leave. Arthur lay sunken-cheeked beside him, senseless of the betrayal—for he would, when he woke, see it as nothing but the deepest sort of treason—and Merlin studied him, waiting for the change to come. He did not reach to trace a finger along the familiar curve of Arthur's nose, his jaw. A cold had settled into him: deep, relentless; he could not risk a touch to see if Arthur had warmed, for he did not know what he might do.

He only watched, and waited.

* * *

**39.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur, Arthur/Morgause  
 **Warnings:** None

Arthur manages to duck under the delicate vase lobbed at him. It shatters on the wall behind him, no doubt ruining the other priceless works in his home. 

"Oi, you witch! That was my mother's!" 

"I don't care!" Morgause shrieks at him, taking aim again with a decorative glass orb, "You fucking cheater, I swear, I'll cut off your balls--" Arthur winces, knowing that his girlfriend (now ex-girlfriend) would follow through. "--any tits would do, huh?" The orb whizzes past his ear, and Arthur jerks sideways.

She screams "Take this!" followed by a bewildering amount of gibberish and hand waving, which Arthur takes to mean that she's gone off the deep end. Until he feels suddenly exhausted and sees Morgause's unbearably smug face. 

He sags to the floor, gaping at her. "What did you _do_?"

"Cursed you. You need to get fucked by a man by midnight tonight," She says, her voice matter of fact and not at all scratchy from yelling.

Arthur blanches, and Morgause, the bitch, smirks, “Or you'll die." 

"Curses don't--,” He protests weakly, “Magic doesn't exist!”

"Why don't you find out?" With that, Morgause leers at Arthur, snaps her fingers and--just like that--disappears. 

~*~ 

Not willing to tempt fate (or the curse), Arthur finds himself in a hotel room bouncing nervously on the bed. 

It's uncomfortable waiting for the man he picked up to shower and as the seconds ticks by, Arthur wants more and more just to leave. Just as he’s about to make up his mind, the bathroom door opens revealing the man in all his naked glory.

"Hey handsome," he says, striding forward and leaning over Arthur. 

Arthur swallows, "Hey." 

The man nuzzles at his jaw, placing wet kisses and Arthur relaxes. This is good, he thinks, it _feels_ good. "I'm Arthur," he groans, just as those lips reach his collar. 

"No shit?" The man says, not pausing in his ministrations, "I'm Merlin." 

Arthur's breath huffs out in half laugher, half shock as Merlin deftly unbuttons his shirt and slides his hands over Arthur's chest. Arthur can't help but to lean into Merlin's touch, his breathing already ragged. Arthur shimmies out of his pants, before running his hands through Merlin’s hair.

"Bed?" Merlin asks and Arthur nods, and they fall on the bed tangled together. This is brilliant, Arthur thinks a bit hysterically, as Merlin palms his erection. 

"Oh god.” Arthur babbles, thrusting his hips up into the delicious friction and lets out a guttural sound. "Oh fuck, _Merlin_ , fuck me." He pants in Merlin's ear, feeling Merlin nod and pull away from him. He’s never been so turned on in his life. 

A few seconds later, a slick finger circles his entrance. Arthur shoves his hips down, encouragingly and the finger slips in all the way to the knuckle. Back bowing, Arthur clenches around the intrusion, and ok, that feels much better than he expected.

" _Fuck_ ," Merlin whispers hoarsely. The finger slowly withdraws and Arthur feels curiously empty. Whimpering, he bears down on around the slick finger and Merlin, bless him, understands. One finger becomes two and soon Arthur has three fingers deep in his arse hitting his sweet spot and doing their best to fuck him into oblivion. When Arthur manages to look up at Merlin through his sweaty fringe, Arthur finds that Merlin looks as wrecked as Arthur feels. 

Arthur chokes on his next words, his fingers clenching and unclenching in the sheets. "Do it, I'm ready, come on, oh!" And Merlin slides his cock in, in, in, and breathes harshly as he waits for Arthur to adjust, but Arthur scrabbles at Merlin’s back, tugging at Merlin to _move_.

Merlin is rough and fucks harder than Arthur expects, but it’s perfect and Arthur cries out with every thrust, feeling as though Merlin's going to spear the very heart of him. He gives as good as he gets, going wild under Merlin's increasingly brutal pace. 

Unable to keep his voice down, Arthur feels like an honest to god porn star, and Merlin can't seem to be quiet either, but he stifles his noise by kissing every stretch of Arthur's skin that he can reach, as if he can't get enough of Arthur and suddenly Arthur is coming harder than he's ever has before. 

Dimly, he feels Merlin's hips stutter and Merlin comes with a wordless cry. They pant together, slowly coming down from their high, and Merlin mumbles, “We should do that again.” Arthur hums noncommittally, but rolls over and pulls Merlin tight against him and mentally thanks Morgause.

* * *

**40.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Vivian  
 **Warnings:** Uh, water sex, hmm, perceived voyeurism prior to perhaps

As soon as he turns his back on the lake, the young Warlock slowly treads a path away from the road he had a come—a little further down that way, he is supposed to meet up with the main thoroughfare into Camelot—his beloved friend, Guinevere, will be desperate to see a familiar face. His foot faults bring him further and further away from the home he has known for a long time. There is no home left for him there.

He feels the heat of the sun beating down on his back—the rays piercing through his scalp, no rain in a week has dried the grass to the point that it is almost brown—without the effects of magic, Merlin witnesses the aging lines of Dragoon poking through his youthful appearance. The battle at Camlann still vivid in his mind, a dreamless sleep would not stop the devastation from playing in his waking thoughts.

Passed out at the foot of an oak tree, Merlin closes his eyes hoping for a rest—the gentle splash of water from behind startles him out of his revelry—he sits up, looking around the tree and spots a blonde girl bathing herself in the creek below the tree he’s leaning on for support. Her voice is singing an old rhyme he had forgotten long ago.

With her back to him, he watches as she massages something into her skin. The curvature of her waist creating what looks like an hourglass that he would have found on Gaius’ desk, his curiosity at this shape before him leads him to make his way towards her. One step over a loose twig at the water’s edge brought the girl’s attention to the shore—her head turns, nearly opening her mouth to scream when she stops with it open, staring at Merlin—the look she gives him was something akin to shock if not horror.

“You are a long way from Camelot,” her voice as shrill as he remembers it, the cool blue eyes boring into his own as she gives him a onceover, “it must be a long time since I’ve been there. You look so old.”

No words could come to Merlin’s mouth as he stares hard at the Lady Vivian—still as beautiful and shallow as ever—he is close enough to the edge of the water to see his reflection. The older man he used to play creases over his cheekbones, hair slowly growing down his chin. Getting older without a spell, he is transfixing on the creature before him in the water. Her body turning again to wipe soap from her front and sides, an alluring sight to behold, he passes through the water and stands behind her.

His breath coming out hard as he feels his body tighten—desperate to touch this beautiful creature—her shrill voice be damned, he asks candidly, “How long have you been here,” the slight turn of her head to answer him stops as he cups her ass firmly, pulling her towards him, dragging her back to shore.

It was in laying her down along the silt and mud drifts that he realizes how he is fully dressed, pulling himself out, he doesn’t think of what more he should do. Her body is ready—waiting for him to claim her—her lips begging for him to taste her. She clings to him as she wraps her legs around his naked lower half, screaming in pure pleasure as his thrusting goes deeper, fuller into her folds.

If he was going to die tonight, he wasn’t going to think that way. The more he pushes in, her back arches towards him, he spills himself inside her as she tightens her core around him. Merlin’s body shakes, convulsing again, Vivian’s legs tightening around his waist as she screams, “My love, please, don’t leave me again,” she whispers, “don’t tell Arthur.”

Before he could say that Arthur is gone, Vivian touches Merlin’s face, she confirms, “I know he’s gone,” she places his hand over her heart, “I felt it here.”

Placing Merlin’s hands over her belly, she adds, “Life doesn’t have to end with King Arthur, you know.”

“No,” Merlin agrees, his body quivering again with the need—the hand caressing down her belly traces its way down—his fingers touching the again wet mound between this blonde woman’s legs, “I could use a distraction.”

Indeed, his needs are very distracting.

* * *

**41.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** non-con due to unconsciousness

Gwen’s tears were the clincher.

When Gaius first suggested that the only cure for Arthur’s sleeping sickness was what he delicately referred to as “the vital essence” of a wizard, Merlin hadn’t even known what he was talking about.

“You mean we need to mix our blood or something?” Merlin had asked. Gaius had given him the eyebrow, Leon had turned pink, and Gwaine had looked impatient and made a circle with the thumb and forefinger of one hand and moved two fingers of the other hand in and out of the circle.

Oh.

Oh.

Merlin had spluttered and insisted there had to be another way. And then Gwen, who he had known since they were all young together, had cried and begged Merlin to save her husband.

So Merlin had reluctantly agreed.

****

 

Merlin found himself in Arthur’s chambers, staring down at his King. Arthur didn’t look terribly ill, but Gaius said that if he continued in this unnatural sleep for much longer, he would die.

Arthur was lying under a thin coverlet, and when Merlin nervously picked up a corner to check underneath, he saw that Arthur was nude. He had been dressed in sleeping clothes the last time Merlin visited, and he supposed Gwen must have ordered the servants to undress him, in an attempt to make things easier for Merlin.

It didn’t feel easy.

He looked down at the man he had served for twenty years. There were gray hairs mixed in with the golden hair, and fine lines around Arthur’s eyes. But he was still beautiful, and Merlin had wanted to make love to him almost since the day they met.

But not like this.

He loved Arthur. And he didn’t want him to die.

He would have to fuck Arthur. There was no other choice.

****

 

Merlin undid his clothing with shaking hands. He thought bitterly of the irony of the situation. Once he would have given anything for a chance to lie with Arthur, but Arthur had chosen Gwen.

And Merlin had chosen celibacy.

It had been so long since Merlin had touched anyone intimately. Not since he was a lad in Ealdor. But as he slid into the bed next to Arthur’s chilled body, he hoped he would remember what to do. 

*****

 

He’d been afraid that he wouldn’t be able to get it up under these circumstances, but he got hard as soon as he ran his hand over the soft skin on the underside of Arthur’s arm. He thought about trying to kiss Arthur, but that felt wrong.

If Arthur ever kissed him, he wanted it to be of his own volition.

He stroked Arthur’s chest, noting the scars the king had received from near-misses in battle. He ran the flat of his hand along the long muscles of Arthur’s thighs, then reached hesitantly between them, touching more boldly but still not willing to touch Arthur’s balls and soft cock.

Gaius had pressed a small vial of oil into Merlin’s hand, asking in a stage whisper if Merlin knew what to do with it.

If Arthur survived, Merlin swore he was going to turn the old man into a goat for a couple of days.

He thought the best way to go about things was to take Arthur from behind. He carefully rolled Arthur onto his front, cupping Arthur’s prick so it would lie flat against the mattress. Then he uncapped the vial and poured some on his fingers.

He nudged behind Arthur’s balls, fondling the tenderness of the perineum, and teased at Arthur’s hole with his forefinger. He held his breath as he slipped a finger inside, and when he felt only minimal resistance he slowly and carefully worked him open.

To his embarrassment, he found that handling Arthur’s perfect arse made him go off like a rocket all over it. Cursing himself for a frustrated old maid, he rubbed the semen into Arthur’s skin, thinking it couldn’t hurt.

Surprisingly, Arthur’s breathing got deeper after that, and his skin went from gray to a healthy pink color.

Merlin stroked Arthur until he was hard, although still not awake, and then he pulled Arthur’s hips up and slid into him. He fucked into him hard and fast, and with his earlier orgasm he was able to make a creditable job of it.

He collapsed on Arthur’s back when he came, and laughed out loud when Arthur spoke. “If you’re quite finished, Mer-lin, you seem to have left me hanging.”

* * *

**42.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

Merlin arched up, pressing his erection against Arthur's, and moaned, the sound echoing in the large room. His head slammed against the table they were on, but he didn't seem to notice. 

"Please, Arthur," he begged, looping one leg around Arthur's waist. "Stop teasing."

Arthur didn't think he was teasing, but he wasn't going to deny Merlin anything, especially not when it had been days since they last touched. Arthur fumbled with the laces of their breeches, eventually getting them undone and tugging their clothes away. Merlin curled in hands in Arthur's hair and pulled him for a kiss, sloppy and frantic.

This wasn't the way Arthur wanted to touch his lover after so long apart, but Merlin had pounced when Arthur had finally cornered him. Merlin shifted beneath him when he finally had their cocks free, grinding up against the solid planes of Arthur's body. 

"I should have found you sooner, if I knew this was going to be the way you reacted," Arthur commented, slipping a hand between their bodies and wrapping it around their erections. "If you were this desperate, you could have found me."

"Shut up, you prat." Merlin tugged on Arthur's hair, pulling him in for another kiss. 

The air was dusty around them, and the table creaked with every movement, but Arthur was panting and couldn't stop moving, and Merlin acted like he didn't even notice the dust or hard surface. It wasn't the oddest of places they'd fucked, Arthur had to admit, so perhaps Merlin didn't even acknowledge it. 

They really needed to start making love in proper beds, honestly. 

"Stop getting distracted," Merlin said, pulling back from the kiss. He wrapped his other leg around Arthur's hip, urging him on faster, and Arthur obeyed the silent command, tightening his fist around their cocks and stroking roughly. It didn't take long for Merlin freeze beneath him, his sharp cry signalling his orgasm. He shot over Arthur's hand, streaks of white painting his fingers and cock, and Arthur followed moments later. He flopped over Merlin, indolent with bliss.

"What had you so distracted?" Arthur asked finally, as he started to move away. Merlin was gaining the far away expression that had been his norm for the past few days, and Arthur hated it, wanted it to go away. 

If only they had never found the stupid ruins. They wouldn't be stuck miles from Camelot, with two of his knights unable to move, and Merlin wouldn't be distracted. Arthur wouldn't feel helpless, unable to grasp at anything.

Merlin blinked, looking at Arthur quizzically. as though he hadn't realized he was distracted. 

"There are so many books here," Merlin said, waving his hand at the shelves surrounding them, thousands of books stacked neatly within. "It's overwhelming, this many books, this much knowledge. So many things we don't know about - computers, phones, cars. Maybe there'll be answers...."

"Answers for what?" Arthur wasn't stupid, knew that in the world there was far too much for him to truly ever know, and things he'd never be able to explain, but the questions that haunted him were ones that a book could never answer. 

"Medicine. Warfare. Building. Everything you can think of. Even magic," Merlin whispered, with a shudder. Arthur put it down to thinking of Morgana, and he frowned. 

"If there are any answers about magic, or how we can defeat Morgana, tell me immediately," Arthur told him. "But Merlin, don't lose yourself in here." He didn't add 'I don't know what I'd do without you,' or 'I'd go crazy if I lost you here' like he wanted to, only pressed a kiss to Merlin's temple, and stood up, straightening their clothes. "Dinner is in a few hours. If you're not there, I'll come in here and drag you out."

Merlin laughed at that, sliding off the table. The sudden loss of eight must have triggered something, because it went crashing to the ground, stirring up more dust. Arthur quickly backed away, coughing. 

Merlin was at dinner, although there was a stack of books at his side. Arthur made sure Merlin didn't return to the ruins that night, sticking close to his side. The place was gray and hard, with ghosts that lingered at the edges of Arthur's vision, and he didn't want Merlin to simply vanish, like the people who once lived there. It reminds him too much of magic, and he doesn't want to lose yet another person he loves to it.

* * *

**43.**

**Pairing: Merlin/Arthur**  
 **Warnings: voyeurism**

The holograms of the crowd flicker in neon colours and deafen in their triumph over the two limp bodies that the Stagehands drag into the wings.

It’s a bit sad, Merlin thinks, that he’s only happy it’s not him. 

Arthur touches Merlin’s jaw with the tip of his fingers and leans over him. He smells of herbal ointment and chemicals, of the gold paint that covers his body and shimmers faintly in the dim light of the waiting wing. 

_This will never be us_ , Arthur says, lips against Merlin’s hairline. He waits there, breath soft and fanning over Merlin’s face.

Merlin says _yours_ like he always does. Truth wrapped in a silent agreement. He tugs on Arthur’s left nipple to hear the soft chuckle it elicits, something private and secret and only his.

He counts the minutes left before its their turn by the number of times Arthur’s chest rises and falls under his hand.

An advertisement plays on the wallscreen. It’s always the same: enter the Game, it says in clashing, vibrant colours and cheerful music, and if you win enough—if you play it right, if you please the crowd—the world will be yours. Together.

It played on the wall of their Facility’s washroom the first time Arthur kissed him.

Merlin knows what they imagine when they watch him and Arthur like this: skin on skin, fingers tracing patterns along bones and muscles, the shivers and the moans, the involuntary twitches of their limbs, and the sometimes slow, sometimes frantic, hitching of their hips.

Merlin paints Arthur’s skin gold, and Arthur uses his fingers to trace green patterns on Merlin’s. And when Arthur pushes his cock into Merlin, like he does now, in one swift movement, when Merlin’s arms are pinned above him and he arches his back in an impossible bow—lets a moan pass through his lips he knows resonates in every viewer’s ears, straight down their spines—they can imagine it’s the sun claiming the grassy hills of the Earth, like two ancient deities colliding. 

Like a creation myth unfolding, unravelling, before their eyes.

They watch Merlin and Arthur push and move together and see old worlds and fallen gods, ancient rituals made of touch, of sweat, of want. It makes them squirm in their tiny boxes, in front of their tiny screens, where they’ve never known, will never know, what it feels like to have something—someone—like this. 

Someone like Arthur, who sears little kisses along Merlin’s throat, and digs his fingers into his hips. Who drags him into his lap, his cock hard and deep inside Merlin, and holds him tight, hands wide across his back like he’s never going to let go. Someone you’re willing to let unravel you between their hands, and see them re-create you with their breath, their touch, their skin. 

And they’ll never know what it’s like to take all that—the way Merlin does with greediness and need—and give it back, give it all back, changed and new and beautifully familiar. 

They look at their screens and see something barbaric. To Merlin, it’s the truest thing he has ever known.

They see what Merlin and Arthur do and it makes them want to mock the savage, unrefined ways their bodies move together, locked like puzzle pieces that shouldn’t fit but do anyway in ways they can’t comprehend. And they want it, deep in their guts, as they stare and leer, feeling shame at the base of their spine, a slow burn they can’t shake.

They’ll never push the thumbs down icon on their screens. They’re fascinated. They’re disgusted and excited all at once, unable to identified the strange ache in their chests.

And they’ll want more.

Merlin throws his head back, arms wide to his sides, shoulders almost off the ground. He cries out as he comes all over his chest, and Arthur bends down to lick at the mess, his fingers slipping and gripping in the sweat over Merlin’s ribs. He comes inside Merlin, his lips and nose smeared and salty when Merlin reaches for him, and swallows his own tastes on Arthur’s skin. 

They’ll win. 

He thinks _only two more_ as Arthur bites lightly at his lower lip, nuzzles his cheek, and the crowd erupts into applause and cheers.

Soon, Merlin will run his fingers through Arthur’s sweaty hair, like he does now, and look into his wide blue eyes, and know there will be no one watching, no end to any of it.

* * *

**44.**

**Title: FFF**  
 **Pairing: Merlin/Arthur**  
 **Warnings: Dub-con**  
 _  
“You want me- us,” Arthur gestured weakly to Merlin, “-to- um-”_

_“We believe it is ‘fuck’,” the voices carried from beneath the heavy hood the aliens, ‘NiTes of Med’hir’, wore to protect themselves from Earth’s atmosphere, all seven speaking._

_Arthur wasn’t sure where the NiTes came from and was in no hurry to ask._

_“How we gonna do…this?” Merlin asked, drawing his tee over his head, ruffling his hair into a whole new state of birds-nest that emphasized how fucking gorgeous he was; high cheekbones, straight nose and impudent mouth._

_“Obviously I’ll do you. On all fours we won’t have to see each other’s face and can pretend it’s someone else.” Arthur winced, watching Merlin’s face twist with fury. It wasn’t the truth; he was terrified that if Merlin saw his face when he got his darkest wish, to have Merlin, that everything emotion would be written across his face and Merlin’d... he wasn’t sure what Merlin would do._

_“Oh yeah, I can tell you’re gonna be a great fuck,” Merlin sneered, shedding jeans and boxers with an efficiency he’d never once exhibited before. Arthur’s blood ran cold at how he’d dreamed of this and this twisted version wasn’t at all what he wanted._

_“No,” seven cloaked arms pointing at Merlin, looking eerily like Ghost’s Of Christmas Future. “Him.” Merlin’s eyebrows rose to somewhere near his hairline, face pale._

_“O..ok.” Arthur mumbled, stripping. “We, uh, need-”_

_“Backpack.” Merlin spat as he motioned to the bag, a NiTe nudging it close with a sword-thing. If Merlin was perturbed he hid it well, finding what they needed, Arthur snatching the lube packet. He’d ripped it open and slicked his fingers before Merlin could drop the bag._

_Laying down, Arthur reached between his thighs, and efficiently stretched himself, trying not to watch Merlin tug himself hard, cock slowly responding despite the situation._

_“You want?” Arthur held out his slick hand as Merlin sheathed himself._

_Tight nod._

_Falling to his knees, Merlin shuffled forward and let Arthur slick him up, staring at the ceiling, before moving to help him flip-_

_“No.”_  
 _  
Both heads snapped around, before Arthur resettled on his back, spreading his thighs for Merlin to settle between. Lifting heavy-muscled thighs around his waist, Merlin wasted no time in situating himself, glanced up for permission before tentatively rolling his hips forward as he breached. Arthur gazed blindly over his shoulder, unaware the NiTes, of anything but the feel of Merlin within him and how his body moved with each gentle thrust, head swaying, friction warming his back as his body yielded for this man._

_Then he was staring at Merlin’s ear, mesmerized by the pink shell as heat pooled in his stomach._

_Then a flushed cheek as goose-bumps broke out across his skin as Merlin thrust harder, cock dragging across his prostate._

_Then the trio of beauty-spots beneath his eye as Arthur felt his cock stiffen and wished he could kiss that impudent mouth._

_Somehow, Arthur found himself staring into the dark, glazed eyes of the man he loved._

_And was unable to stop himself. He moaned one horrible, wonderful, word._

_The vacant look turned assessing as Merlin stilled._

_“What?”_

_“Your knees knocking together.” He lied, chasing the truth but unable to catch up. Merlin radiated disbelief before a calculating smirk twisted his lips and Arthur’s heart thumped double-time as he suspected what Merlin planned._

_As Merlin’s hips drew back so slow, Arthur tried to stuff his fist in his mouth but Merlin clamped his wrist to the floor as he punched his hips forward, again, again and those traitorous moans, those double-crossing words flooded out and Arthur clenched his eyes, waiting for a blow, and when it came, it was harder than he expected._

_“Me too.”_  
  
“So, ehm, no probe-” Merlin’s voice cut across Arthur’s, smile evident. Friday night was their ‘fantasy fuck’ night, spilling secrets to each other.

“No.” Arthur yelled, thighs clamping around Merlin’s ribs.

“It’s not an ‘alien does stuff to me’ fantasy. It’s a ‘I get my shit together and tell you how I feel’.” 

Merlin stilled.

“Oh.” The idiot blinked rapidly, clearly confused. “But we did that. We kissed,” Arthur sucked Merlin’s lower lip as he demonstrated. “We kissed, and we shagged. And shagged more. It was good shagging.”

“Stop saying shag.”

“Only if you shag-”

Arthur rolled them over, blanketing Merlin with his orgasm-lax body as Merlin’s cock and come slid free of him, aware he was crushing Merlin and knowing, finally, just how much Merlin craved that.

* * *

**45.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** crossover with H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu mythos

Merlin’s dark head rested on Arthur’s chest, ear pressed surely over his steadily beating heart. The seldom had the chance to sleep together like this. Most of their time was spent travelling, searching for Aithusa and any remnants of the Old Religion, and fighting the eerie batrachian creatures with perverted human features and gibbous eyes that served the Old Ones.

“We’ll find them, Arthur.” ‘You wouldn’t have come back to me it there wasn’t a way,’ went unsaid.

Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hand where it lay on his chest. “You always did have enough faith for the both of us.”

He squeezed his hand back and closed his eyes, letting Arthur’s heartbeat wash over him like a reassuring blanket.

It had been hard when Arthur first returned. Both men facing feelings and emotions that had lain buried for millennia, as well as the horrors that had spawned Arthur’s return. But as always they struggled through, slaying and laying to rest solid and emotional demons alike.

Excalibur had proven a powerful weapon in that fight. As they had left the sanctuary of the island Excalibur had risen from the waters of Avalon just as the Old Ones had risen from their silent slumber in the sea. The blade hardened in dragon’s breath sliced through the other worldly creatures felling them where all other weapons had failed. Now they were on yet another quest, though in a much different world; a quest for artefacts of the Old Religion. The powers of the Old Religion seemed to be the only weapon against the Old Ones.

Merlin sighed at the feel of Arthur’s strong fingers tracing the knobs of his spine. Arthur had been back for five months, one week, three days, and seven hours; the same time the world ended and the Old Ones had risen. They had been lovers for two months, three weeks, six days, and three hours of that time. 

Usually their lovemaking was hard and fast, a frantic, primal reminder that they were both alive. It was what made nights like this so special. They could take their time relearning each other, taking in all the new scars, and there were always new scars, new terrain to add to their mental maps of the other’s body. As horrible as each new scar was, it was a reminder that they were alive.

Tonight, Arthur had made a thorough study of Merlin’s body. It had been so close, a claw digging into Merlin’s chest for a split second before Arthur had been able to bring Excalibur down on it. The three deep gouges along Merlin’s pale flesh were still read and healing- the newest addition to his map. Arthur had spent extra care kissing each mark, a meagre penance for his failure. He’d spent hours worshipping and teasing Merlin’s body before finally pushing inside and setting up a mind-blowingly slow rhythm, torturous in its hidden meaning. They were alive and together and tomorrow they might not be, so tonight, as with every night they had together, they made love to be remembered, the possibility of it being the last always to close to the surface. 

Tonight they moved together, the only two beings that mattered, their bodies and their love. Tomorrow would bring monsters and uncertainty and tonight could be their last, so they loved, strongly and purely, a love to last forever.

* * *

**46.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Lancelot  
 **Warnings:** dub-con

Lancelot made his way into Gaius’rushed up the stairs to Merlin’s room.

Gaius was there leaning over an unconscious Merlin, wiping sweat off his glowing brow. Lancelot stopped in his tracks and stared at his friend.

Merlin moaned and thrashed about. His hands reached out towards Lancelot and Lancelot didn’t hesitate to move closer. He grabbed Merlin’s outstretched hands and was pulled forward.

“Wait, Lancelot!” Gaius’s warning came too late. 

Lancelot found himself at Merlin’s side on the bed, a strange tingle of sensation and a soft yellow light ensconcing the both of them.

“It’s happening sooner than expected. I spelled him to sleep, but it’s not going to last long. I can’t be in the room when it happens and I can’t help you, Lancelot,” Gaius said.

“He won’t hurt me. We at least had a chance to discuss it briefly before today,” Lancelot said.

“His power is surging, I can feel it. You’ll have to stay calm, Lance. His magic needs a constant connection until it settles. Good luck,” Gaius said and then he was gone.

“Shit,” Lancelot said as he looked over at Merlin to find his eyes wide open and glowing gold with power.

“Mine,” Merlin said, his was more of a growl than anything, but Lancelot understood the sentiment. Merlin pushed Lancelot onto his back and climbed on top of him, quickly divesting him of his shirt and pants.

Lancelot tried to help but he was made immobile by a flash of Merlin’s eyes and could do nothing more than look up at the man above him.

Merlin leaned down and captured Lancelot’s mouth in a kiss that silenced any protest Lancelot might have. Lancelot moaned into Merlin’s mouth aching to touch Merlin in return but he was powerless to do so. Lancelot felt Merlin’s magic surge through him, it was warm and made all his nerves itch with want. His muscles twitched from the exertion of trying to stop Merlin’s magic so he could touch him.

“Please,” Lancelot begged.

Merlin’s eyes flashed and suddenly they were naked together. Merlin was rubbing himself against Lancelot creating a delicious friction between them. Lancelot felt his precome drip onto his stomach and he was desperate to come.

“Merlin,” Lancelot said. He was right on the edge but Merlin reached down and grasped the base of his cock and stopped him from coming.

“Not yet,” Merlin said and retreated from Lancelot. He flipped Lancelot over and began to finger him with a clear gel that Merlin grabbed from the side table. 

The first pass of Merlin’s fingers against his prostate would have made him come but something stopped him. Lancelot could only presume it was Merlin’s magic. He let out a whimper of defeat that quickly turned into a moan as Merlin added another finger.

“Fuck me,” Lancelot managed to stutter in between his moans. Merlin relented and the glow that was surrounding them started to glow brighter. He felt hot and ready for release but Merlin’s magic wouldn’t allow him to come.

The bed shook with every thrust of Merlin inside him and Lancelot’s vision started to blur. He moaned as Merlin leaned over to bite his back and then something shifted. Merlin’s magic hummed and rolled in waves from Merlin to Lancelot and back. Merlin slid his hand between Lancelot and the mattress and then they were coming. The pleasure was so intense that Lancelot lost consciousness.

Lancelot woke up and squinted in the dark room. He had no idea how much time had passed. It could have been hours or days but Merlin was still a warm presence at his side.

“You’re awake,” Merlin said. He grasped Lancelot’s hip and brought them closer together. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay,” Lancelot replied.

“I don’t remember anything. Thank you for bonding with me,” Merlin said. Lancelot could hear the sadness in his voice and he turned to face Merlin.

“Merlin, there’s nothing to thank me for. I could have never let harm come to you. You know I care for you deeply,” Lancelot replied. He laid a kiss on Merlin’s forehead to demonstrate.

“I know. I care for you too,” Merlin said. He smiled slightly and kissed Lancelot. Lancelot couldn’t hold back his moan.

“We should let Gaius know you’re alright,” Lancelot protested weakly.

“Later,” Merlin promised.

* * *

**47.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** none

“Do you have to?”

Merlin hates himself for asking, but the question slips out before he can stop himself. He's been waiting to hear it for months, years, even, but he still isn’t prepared for it.

Arthur flinches, but so slightly that one would have to know his face intimately to see it. Merlin does.

“You know I do, Merlin,” he says softly. “I wish - ”

“I know,” Merlin says, refusing to give way to the panic and despair clawing their way up his throat. He turns to leave and Arthur catches his arm.

“Merlin, please,” he starts, and hesitates. It's unusual in Arthur, usually so sure of himself. “Come see me. Tonight. Please.”

Merlin shouldn't, but he's already nodding, helpless in the face of Arthur. “I will.”

*

The earth has been uninhabitable for decades now; it's been centuries since humanity first talked of leaving. Habitable planets are hard, but not impossible, to come by, and slowly but surely, humanity has departed for them.

One settlement remains. Soon there will be none.

*

They fuck fast and desperate that night, Arthur pressing Merlin's wrists into the sheets of his bed, biting at his jaw. His hips lose their rhythm faster than he'd like, but there's no time for shame, no space for anything but this – Merlin's closed-eyed, reverent expression, the way his sweat-dampened hair sticks to his forehead, his hard cock brushing against Arthur's stomach with every thrust.

Arthur gets his hand around him and gets him off quickly, fast enough that Merlin is panting hard and coming seconds before Arthur does himself.

He wants Merlin to stay, wants to curl around him and fall asleep, like they used to when they were young and full of hope. Instead, Merlin climbs out of his bed, picking his clothes up as he walks towards the door and fumbling them back on. He leaves without a word. 

Arthur doesn't sleep.

*

Arthur has known this day is coming almost his entire life. When the second last colony left earth, he was just six years old. His father raised him to be a leader, and he loves his people with everything in him. He's always known he would be the one to lead them to the stars.

*

“I can't come with you.” Merlin's voice was flat.

“I'm not going anywhere,” Arthur said, perplexed. He was enjoying a rare day off, lounging in the sun-room in the palace. Merlin sat beside him, picking up Arthur's hand and starting to trace the lines on his palm.

“I can't come with you,” he said again, softer this time, and sadder. Arthur's heart clenched.

“Merlin - ” 

“I'm – my magic – it's tied to the earth. Literally,” Merlin added, laughing humourlessly. “I can't leave here.”

“But - ” Arthur stuttered, panic bubbling in his chest. He closed his fingers tight around Merlin's.

“I'm sorry,” Merlin said quietly.

Arthur shook his head, numb. There was nothing to apologise for, but there was nothing else to say. They sat in silence for a long time, and eventually, Merlin turned Arthur's face to his, and kissed him.

“I love you,” he said, and then he left.

When Arthur returned to their rooms that night, all Merlin's things were gone.

*

The next year passes in strange stop-starts, dragging through slow, hot days, racing through months at a time. Merlin is busy; there are supplies to be stocked, people to be organised, possessions to be packed or discarded.

He’s avoiding Arthur, has been for a long time now. He thought it would make it easier when the time came, to pull away early, but the regret for the wasted time now hangs heavy on his heart.

He doesn’t know if Arthur feels the same, so he waits. 

*  
Arthur comes to him the night before he’s to leave, slipping wordlessly into his bed. For all his previous attempts at stoicism, Merlin clings to him now, pressing his face into Arthur’s neck and inhaling his scent, desperate to cement it in his memory.

Arthur fucks him slowly, and for _hours_ , until Merlin is begging, his hands fisted in the sheets, half out of his mind with desire and grief. 

“Was it easier for you?” Arthur asks when they’re curled together afterwards. “Being apart?”

Merlin just kisses him deeply, knowing Arthur can feel the hot splash of his tears on his face, knowing that will answer his question. 

*

“Find me,” Arthur whispers. “However far, however long it takes. I’ll wait, a thousand years, just come and find me.”

Merlin kisses his lips.

“I will.”

* * *

**48.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Grieving, minor character deaths, apocalypse

It turns out that laughing at an unexpectedly bossy service robot (it hasn’t made it through the apocalypse with all its higher functions quite intact) and saying ‘Who died and made you king?’ is not a good idea.

It doesn’t understand sarcasm.

“For the thousandth time: you’re not royalty. You’re a _robot_ ,” says Merlin.

“You can’t speak to me like that,” says Arthur.

“You do know I could blow you up with a single thought, right?” says Merlin.

“Fetch my coat,” says Arthur (again).

‘Asksdkfjfd!!’ says Merlin.

They have this conversation a lot. 

Then Merlin fetches Arthur’s coat or whatever it is he wants because, let’s be honest, it’s just easier that way.

*

The attack was a lucky break, in a way. OK, Merlin could have done with less poisoning all of humanity, but for the first time in his life, he’s not on the run. Or five minutes away from dying horribly on someone’s dissection table, which is kind of funny when you think about it, what with the aliens and all.

He spent the first few months after they left just sitting on the beach, trying to get used to the idea of being free, smiling, saying hi to the waves and welcoming them ashore. 

Well, until one of them said hello back. 

That was how Merlin met Arthur.

*

Merlin tried to patch Arthur up as best he could, but his circuitry suffered a lot of water damage, and Merlin’s no expert. 

On the upside, he took Merlin’s magic in stride. 

On the downside, there are things like:

“Now, I really expect better behaviour from you. We have a planet to get back into shape, and brawling within the ranks will not be tolerated.”

“… Arthur, you’re talking to a couple of dogs. They were fucking. At least someone’s having fun.”

and 

“No. Absolutely not. We’re both men. What am I saying, you’re not human. _We can’t repopulate the earth_.”

*

When he finally finds Freya, and then Gwaine, the apocalypse seems a lot less awesome. He didn’t know them for very long, but they’re the closest he’s ever come to having friends.

When he sees Merlin on all fours, gasping, Arthur goes into his pre-programmed first aid routine.

Merlin snarls, “Go away.” 

Arthur frowns, the computer in his head unable to make sense of the situation.

*

Arthur doesn’t go away. He takes to following Merlin around from house to house, though he’s blissfully quiet about it. 

One day, he disappears into a library. Merlin keeps walking.

He’s consequently not expecting the flowers he finds on his pillow one evening.

He ends up shouting rather a lot, about how he will never sleep with Arthur, and will he get it through his thick metallic skull that he’s a robot, goddammit, and that humanity is long lost, anyway. 

He doesn’t even know how long his magic will keep protecting him.

He slams the door in Arthur’s face. 

*

He feels exhausted after that, so when Arthur approaches him a couple of days later, he just says, “I’m not cleaning your shoes.”

“OK.”

“Well, that’s surprisingly generous of you, sire,” Merlin sighs as he starts rooting through a closet.

“It is,” says Arthur.

Two arms close around Merlin from behind; he thinks Arthur’s going to wrestle him down, but he just stands there stiffly. Then understanding dawns on Merlin. After a few moments, he leans back, feeling magnanimous. Arthur holds him close, but Merlin’s not going to cry, he’s not; in fact, he spends a good half hour not crying as Arthur presses his nose to Merlin’s neck.

*

“You know what?” Merlin says later, when he finds the chocolate and melted ice cream by his bed. “Let’s repopulated the earth, then. Just… don’t get your hopes up too high.” 

“We can but try,” Arthur says, smiling.

“Hope springs eternal?” Merlin kisses Arthur before he can start an argument. It turns out Arthur’s tongue feels a little funny, but it’s also surprisingly skilled. He takes Merlin apart with a meticulous precision that has him sobbing into his pillow; it doesn’t even matter that Arthur’s cock can’t get hard, he’s hot and real under Merlin’s hands, and his fingers are… well. 

By the time he comes for the third time, Merlin feels quite accepting towards being bossed around. 

“Well,” Merlin says, “if we keep this up, at least we’ll go out with a bang.” He doesn’t even mind that Arthur doesn’t get the joke. He’s a robot, Merlin’s sure he can learn.

* * *

**49.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** circa season three, dub con, crack, inspired by a recent cinematic event

“SORCERY!” Uther screamed in the background as Gaius, Arthur, and Merlin stood on the balcony of the castle, watching monsters fall from black menacing clouds. The streets of Camelot flooded and Arthur watched in horror as his people were gobbled up by the finned beasts. 

“What are these monsters that fall from the sky?” Arthur asked.

“Sharks, sire.” Gaius watched as the sharks ravaged the thatched roofs and destroyed everything in their path. “They’re native of Finland and--”

A shark falling onto the balcony interrupted Gaius and Merlin could do nothing but watch as the giant beast swallowed Arthur hole. “Arthur! NO!” Without a thought, Merlin launched himself at the monstrous amphibian and allowed himself to be swallowed whole. 

The belly was moist and filled with a viscous fluid that smelled worse than Arthur’s hose after a week’s worth of training. The monster’s heart beat a cadence that echoed through Merlin’s skull and made his head throb. He felt around in the dark when a strong, slippery hand grabbed his from behind.

“Merlin! Thank gods. Did you get attacked too? I’ve got a knife; I can cut us out.”

“No, wait!” Merlin reached out towards what he thought would be Arthur’s arms to still him. “We need to--” 

“We need to get out of here?” Arthur interrupted.

“No! These monsters are part of a spell. The Sharknado: it’s an old, dangerous curse designed to ravage a city. Finned beasts with teeth like nails that fall from the sky until there’s nothing but rubble and dust. The only way to brake the curse is an...” Merlin squeezed his fists and swallowed. “An _offering_. To the gods for the spell. We have to...” He trailed off and hoped Arthur caught on.

“You can’t mean....” Arthur gasped. “Inside this beast?”

“For Camelot, sire.” 

He placed his hand on Arthur’s thigh and felt the muscle under his hand coil and tense. He tried to drown out the ever present beat of the shark’s heart and focus on the warm body in front of him. He ignored the film that covered every inch of both of them, the slimy slide of skin against skin, and the horrific stench of whatever the monster had previously devoured. He instead focused on Arthur’s steady breathing and familiar presence. 

He reached Arthur’s pants and took a moment to pause before he continued. Of all the times he had fantasized, he never imagined it quite like this. But despite the circumstances, it was still Arthur: familiar, golden, warm. 

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered when Merlin’s hand finally worked its way into the folds of Arthur’s trousers. His breath was hot against Merlin’s neck and despite it all, Merlin shivered and shifted closer. He buried his nose behind Arthur’s ear and inhaled, finding the warm earthy scent of Arthur under the stench of the monster. 

Arthur’s cock stiffened in Merlin’s palm and he squeezed his fist around the shaft and moved his thumb over the tip. He focused on the silky skin and the way Arthur’s breath lost its steady rhythm as he moved his hand faster, pulled the length harder. 

“ _Merlin_ , you’re always,” Arthur choked off when Merlin rimmed the tip and pushed under his foreskin. 

“I’m always what, sire?” he prompted, feeling a hint of cheek despite the circumstances.

Arthur huffed and Merlin thought he felt Arthur’s cheek curl into a smile. “Infuriating.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes and stilled his hand. “Do you say that to all the boys who have their hand on your cock?” 

“Most of them, yes.”

Merlin sped up his hand and twisted in a way that he enjoyed on himself in retaliation. He reveled in Arthur’s soft gasp. Arthur’s cock stiffened impossibly more as he stroked velvet skin and the steady throb of his pulse resonated through Merlin’s palm, drowning out the ceaseless beat of the shark’s heart. 

Arthur grunted and thrust into Merlin’s hand, his breath ragged and his moan broken. Merlin longed to see his eyes, the blue lost to the black of arousal. “For Camelot,” Arthur growled, his voice low and thick. Merlin shivered with repressed desire. His body taut and his release coated Merlin’s fist with familiar warmth that Merlin longed to feel again.

Aroused, annoyed, and in desperate need of a bath, Merlin was ready for this episode to be over. “That should be enough to appease the gods. Can you cut us out of here?”

Merlin didn’t need to see Arthur to know he rolled his eyes, but he was reassured when he felt him draw his sword. “I suppose the tide has turned, sire.”

* * *

**50.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** a kiss where one partner is temporarily unconscious

No one speaks to Arthur directly. The servants duck their heads and scurry away when they cross his path. A dozen guards and some of his knights are armed to the teeth and shaking like leaves when Arthur arrives. His knights avoid his gaze and keep their eyes on the floor. 

“Tell me,” Arthur snaps. 

Someone finally speaks. “It’s Merlin, sire, he―”

Arthur doesn’t wait to hear more. He brushes his way past the guards who move aside for him, and knocks the heads together of those who don’t. He’ll apologise later―there’s no room for anything else in his thoughts right now.

Even so, Arthur is not prepared for what he sees when he enters the room. A massive oak tree, its roots dug into the ground and branches spread out to the ceiling, is in the centre of the room, glowing greenish-gold. Arthur squints against the light and makes out a naked figure tied to the tree: Merlin. 

Arthur is halfway across the room, his sword ready to cut Merlin free, before he realises that Merlin isn’t tied to the tree―he’s _in_ the tree. Merlin’s wrists are melded to the tree’s branches, the lower half of his body disappearing into the trunk. Only his head and torso are free, but his eyes are closed. He’s so still, Arthur isn’t sure he’s breathing. 

“Sire,” comes Gaius’ voice from behind him.

Arthur snaps his head around. “What― _who_ did this?” 

Gaius shakes his head. “Morgana. She’s tapping into the forbidden magics to trap him. This kind of human transformation magic isn’t written in any spellbook―I don’t know of any counter spell to help him.”

“What are you saying?” Arthur asks numbly. 

Gaius looks at him soberly. “Merlin is beyond my reach. By dawn tomorrow, his transformation will be complete. He will remain a tree for eternity. I’m sorry, sire, you know I am, but I have tried every spell I know, and I have nothing to show for it.”

Arthur doesn’t bat an eyelid at Gaius admitting to using magic―Arthur would do the same in a heartbeat if he could. “Gaius, please. There must be something we can do.”

Gaius gives him a shrewd look. “There may not be anything I can do with magic, sire, but perhaps there is something you can do.”  Arthur stares at him. “What? What can I do?”

“Reach him. Make him remember what it is to be human, what it is to be loved.”

Arthur turns to look at Merlin, pale and still. He swallows hard. “Perhaps you’d better leave us, Gaius,” he says. Gaius bows and takes his leave, bolting the door shut behind him.

Arthur steps to the tree and places a hand on Merlin’s chest: it is rising and falling, just barely. Arthur decides that’s the place to start. He presses his lips to Merlin’s, breathing into his mouth, tasting greenery and magic. “Please, Merlin.”

There’s a movement, a fluttering of Merlin’s eyelashes. Arthur pulls away and breathes out a sigh of relief as Merlin’s eyes open slowly, but it’s all wrong: Merlin’s eyes are glowing gold. They blink at him, blind and unseeing, and slowly drift shut again.

“ _No_ ,” Arthur says. “Come back to me.” Arthur keeps his eyes closed this time, putting everything he’s ever felt for Merlin―anger, irritation, acceptance, fondness, desire, love―into his kiss, hoping that it’s enough and he won’t be found wanting. 

The sound of bark splitting and cracking isn’t enough to make Arthur open his eyes. It isn’t until strong, warm, familiar arms wrap around his shoulders that Arthur dares to open them. Merlin’s blue eyes stare back at him, open and startled. 

“Arthur,” Merlin says, sounding happy and dazed. He topples over onto Arthur, sending them crashing to the floor. The tree is shrinking behind them, and Merlin, all of him whole and perfect, is free.

Arthur laughs joyously, holding on tight. He rolls them over, pinning Merlin to the floor. “I’m not stupid enough to let you go this time,” Arthur says.

Merlin’s eyes widen and he smiles. Arthur kisses him again and again, unable to stop. Merlin kisses back just as fiercely, pressing every inch of their bodies together. Arthur groans, his cock rising and tightening, and feels Merlin harden along with him. It’s easy, so much easier than he ever thought, to wrap his hand around Merlin’s cock, hard and hot and _alive_ , jumping eagerly in his hand. Arthur laughs at the heat, the thrill of it. Merlin’s hand finds Arthur’s, curling around them both, and they tangle their fingers together, stroking and stroking them together until they come.

“Stay with me,” Arthur says afterward, breathless, and Merlin’s reply is, “Always.”

* * *

**51.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** dub-con-ish

Morgana whispered the spell over her shiny globe and the faces of her victims appeared. She smirked as she cast the enchantment, clouds rippling through the globe as it took effect. 

She was so sick of the pathetic _pining!_

***

“It. Won’t. Stop. Burning. I’m. Going. To. DIE!” Arthur growled through gritted teeth, holding a hand over his throbbing cock. 

Gaius tried to peek at it through Arthur’s closed fist and tsk’d. “Yes... it appears as though someone has enchanted you, sire.” 

“ _Obviously_!” Arthur shouted, gasping and starting to stroke again. His hand itched and hurt from wanking for the last three hours straight and his cock was a burning, angry red. He had no idea how precome was _still_ spurting out from the head, but there it was, dripping down his fist as he pumped his cock. “I can’t let go, or it’ll be even more painful, and I can’t just _spend the rest of my life wanking_! I’m the King, damn it!”

Merlin snorted from the corner of the room as he flipped through the pages of the large spellbook. 

“I swear Merlin if you laugh _one more time_ \--”

“Sire, you getting angry is not helping matters,” Gaius interrupted him. “The only thing that will help is release, clearly.”

“I’ve tried!” Arthur cried out, frustrated beyond belief. “I have tried everything I could think of for the last three hours and it’s just _not_ happening! Gaius, do something before someone finds out!”

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “What do you suggest I do, sire? The only cure we can find is for you to complete an orgasm.”

Arthur shuddered. As if the day couldn’t get any worse, his court physician was now staring at his cock and talking about orgasms. This was not helping Arthur with said orgasm, but his cock didn’t seem to mind at all, still rock hard. 

“I don’t think he has a lot of time left, Gaius,” Merlin said, biting his lip. “If he doesn’t... you know... then the frustration just may kill him...”

Gaius sighed. “Is there anyone you fancy, sire? I believe perhaps the help of another--”

“I cannot ask someone to do that!” Arthur blushed even more furiously, not daring to look across the room at the object of his fantasies. 

Merlin walked over suddenly and whispered something to Gaius. The old man’s eyebrows both rose and he quickly got up and cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me sire.”

“Gaius! Where are you going?!” Arthur yelped as the door shut behind him. 

“Arthur.” Merlin said briskly, kneeling down in front of Arthur, between his legs. Arthur gasped as his cock twitched harder and more precome flowed. “I’m going to suck you off, so just close your eyes and imagine whoever you want doing it, okay?”

Before Arthur could even reply, his hand was being moved and a burning sensation flooded him, rendering him speechless. However, just as he was about to shout from pain, a wet and tight suction enveloped his cock and he let out a loud moan of pleasure. For the first time in three hours, he felt pure bliss and he quickly tangled his fingers into Merlin’s hair, looking down at him with hazy eyes. 

“M-Merlin-- oh gods-- fuck-- how are you so bloody good at this?!” Arthur choked off another moan as the suction increased and Merlin hummed around his cock, the vibrations causing Arthur’s hips to jerk up slightly. He took shuddery breaths and slowly unwound under Merlin’s fingers on his thighs, clenching tightly as he sucked down Arthur’s cock. 

“I’m-- oh-- I’m going to-- Merlin--” Arthur’s heart nearly stopped as Merlin looked up at him, those blue eyes swirling with burned gold, hot with desire. Arthur gasped and clenched, coming with a hard shudder. 

He watched through blurry eyes as Merlin swallowed and pulled away from Arthur’s cock, giving it small licks. The pain had finally ceased and blood began to flow through the rest of his body normally and Arthur was shaking with the force of his orgasm. 

“You said my name the whole time, no one else’s” Merlin whispered, crawling onto the cot next to Arthur and curling around him. 

Arthur hummed in pleasure, lying them both down and holding Merlin close. “Of course I did. It’s always been you, idiot.”


	3. Group C (warnings)

**52.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** incest, underage, noncon/coercion 

'Either you do it or we shoot you both. But we're not letting you go until we get what we want.'

The man had his gun trained on Merlin and Arthur knew that he was deadly serious. He didn't wave it around or gesture with it. His arm was steady as still water, the pistol aimed right at Merlin's heart. 

A quick no-nonsense death. From a man who didn't have time to waste. They agreed or they died. Their only way out alive ensured that their captors were never caught. 

_How could we tell anyone?_

Arthur glanced at Merlin but Merlin didn't even seem to register his presence. From the moment the thugs had taken the cloth bags off of their heads and Merlin had laid eyes on the gun, he hadn't spoken and he hasn't taken his eyes off of its handler. Even as they'd undressed, Merlin's gaze didn't falter. Arthur had at least taken the opportunity to get a bearing of their surroundings. 

The room was almost bare, four white walls and one small window. The only trappings were the video camera on its tripod and the bed behind them. It was the sparsest room he'd ever been in but it was easily the most oppressive. Knowing what he knew, the bed seemed to grow until it seemed to be swallowing the room. 

And Arthur along with it. 

He knew he had to decide because Merlin would never take his eyes off of that gun. He had to swallow down bile the first time he opened his mouth to speak, and his voice wouldn't come the second time. When he finally got his close to work, he barely recognized it for how it rasped out, weak and devoid of its usual resolve. 

'Yes...,' he croaked. 'We'll do it.'

The man with the gun spoke sharply into a walkie talkie and another man appeared in the doorway not long after. He surveyed Merlin's nakedness appreciatively, raking his eyes over Merlin pale nakedness so thoroughly that it made Arthur bristle with rage and disgust. 

The cameraman fiddled with the tripod for a moment. The red blinking light emanating from the machine mocked Arthur mercilessly as he turned to the boy beside him. 

'Merlin,' he murmured, reaching out tentatively. Merlin's skin was cool and clammy to the touch and he flinched so hard that he stumbled. But he still didn't speak and that made Arthur's stomach churn. 

_I'm going to have to do this to him..._

'Merlin, I'm sorry. I don't-- _We_ don't have a choice. Just--'

'Get on with it!'

The cold muzzle of the gun jabbed Arthur between the shoulder blades, forcing him up against Merlin's front and causing erection brushed against Merlin's own. They'd been forced to drink some bitter liquid as soon as they entered the room, before being stripped and having their clothes and IDs taken, and this physical betrayal was the result. 

Taking Merlin's hand, Arthur shifted them to the bed. Merlin followed without struggle, lying down and letting Arthur arrange his limbs. When Arthur laid down on top of him, he didn't say a word. He was silent the entire time Arthur spread him open with his fingers and he didn't protest when the man with the gun forced Arthur to kiss him. 

Arthur had fighting back tears from the moment he laid his hands on Merlin with purpose and he lost the battle when he felt himself slip inside Merlin. Because Merlin still said nothing but Arthur could see that his cheeks were wet with tears. 

He stayed like that, still and cold and clammy, the entire time Arthur was inside him. The man with the gun urged them on and the man behind the camera made lewd suggestions but none of it registered on Merlin's face. He was the most animated person Arthur knew and no he was just silence and tears. 

Arthur's release was followed swiftly by the complete rebellion of his stomach and Arthur barely made it off the bed before retching. He was still heaving as he watched the man step out from behind the camera and hold up their IDs to the lens. His words made Arthur's stomach heave again. 

'Pendragon, Arthur. Age 17. Pendragon, Merlin. Age 15. Brothers.'

Merlin still didn't make a sound.

* * *

**53.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Dub/noncon resulting from sex pollen

The sun warms Merlin’s skin, makes him feel sleepy-happy as he dips his toes into the glinting water of the stream, waiting for Arthur to finish dressing. He leans back, letting his head fall against the soft grass, arms outstretched above him.

“Isn’t this your job, Merlin?” Arthur says, and Merlin smiles at the sound of shifting fabric.

“Would you like me to dress you, my lord?”

Arthur doesn’t answer.

The wind shifts, bringing with it a sweet scent, and Merlin inhales deeply, trying to place it. It’s very warm there at the stream’s edge. Too warm. Merlin unties his kerchief and tosses it. He’s sweating profusely, his skin slick with it, and he tears off his damp tunic. He’s halfway through kicking off his trousers when Arthur says, “If you wanted a bath, you should have had one earlier.”

Merlin knows those words, but he’s having trouble making sense of them. He’s naked now, running hands all over himself, across his chest, trying to put himself together, but he’s still too hot.

“What are you doing?” Arthur says. His bare foot grazes over Merlin’s chest. “Why are you so sweaty? Are you well?”

Arthur is bending over him, hands on Merlin’s neck and forehead, and Merlin looks up at him. He’s _beautiful_ , and Merlin wants to touch him, so he does. He wraps his hand around the back of Arthur’s neck and pulls him down close, rubs their noses together and goes cross-eyed trying to look into Arthur’s eyes.

“Let me—” Arthur starts, then hesitates, turns his face into Merlin’s neck. “Fuck, Merlin, you smell—” Arthur’s voice is choked off, and Merlin reaches for his breeches. They’re poorly laced, easy to push down, and Merlin presses his hand to Arthur’s groin, wraps fingers around his prick and pulls, coaxing.

“Stop,” Arthur says, but his voice is thin, breathless. He’s dragging his nose up Merlin’s chin, down his jaw, behind his ear. He’s fully hard in Merlin’s hand, and he groans hot into Merlin’s ear, bucking into Merlin’s fist.

“Need you inside,” Merlin says, winding an arm around Arthur and yanking him down, their chests touching. But Arthur pulls himself back, leans away from Merlin, crouched in the empty space between his legs. 

“I can’t do this,” Arthur says, and his voice sounds panicked, his fists clenched tight against his thighs, and his eyes roving down Merlin’s body. His desire is as clear on his face as it is in his cock, so Merlin rolls himself onto his front and gets up onto his knees, spreading his arse open and sliding a finger inside. It’s wet like the rest of him, submerged in magic and so fucking hot, and Merlin knows he needs something there to take the ache away.

“Please fuck me,” Merlin whines into the ground, fucking back onto his fingers. “I’m so fucking hot. I _need_ it.” The long silence is agony, and Merlin spreads his legs wider, circles his hips, makes Arthur _watch._

“Don’t hate me,” Arthur whispers, and finally his thighs press up against Merlin’s. Merlin pulls his fingers out and grabs Arthur’s cock, guides him in, and it’s fucking _magic_ the way Arthur fucks him. He slides in deep, leans forward and buries his nose in Merlin’s neck, jerks hard against him.

Merlin feels like he’s being ripped apart with pleasure, like every part of him is on fire, burning with need. “Need your come,” Merlin moans, forehead sweaty in the crook of his arm.

Arthur bites down on Merlin’s shoulder and fucks harder, and Merlin thinks he might die from how good it feels. Arthur’s arms tighten around him and he lets out a whine, and Merlin’s whole body is inundated with bliss. When he comes, he feels it in his skull and his knees and the small of his back. He feels elevated and breathless, and it seems like it lasts for ages.

Arthur pulls out and flops down on his back, and through the haze of coming down, Merlin can see the concern on Arthur’s face. There will be consequences, of course—those are unavoidable. But for now, Merlin reaches over to curl his hand around Arthur’s hip. Arthur looks at him, and Merlin offers up a weak smile. He watches Arthur’s chest rise and fall, and when Arthur’s fingers graze over Merlin’s arm, Merlin lets his eyes fall shut, comfortable in the warmth of the sun and the gentle rippling of the stream.

* * *

**54.**

**Pairing:** Gwen/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** None

They ran through the forest, branches slashing at their skin. A pulse shot over Gwen's shoulder and hit a birch, showering them with flaming debris. There was a loud crack and an echoing cry of pain from Morgana.

"Fuck. I've cracked my cell, we need to stop," Morgana shouted.

"Shit." Gwen pulled out her pistol and checked the fuel levels. "I've got about six shots left. You?"

"Nothing in reserves, but there's no point in hiding now, is there?"

"S'pose not. I've got point, you take the two on our seven. Go!" Gwen dropped to the ground and rolled, lining up her shot on the closest tracker bot. Her first shot went wide but she hit its sensor grid with the second. Beside her Morgana had both hands outstretched, twisting the other two bots midair, causing their shells to crack and explode.

"We need cover. Immediately." Gwen was already back on her feet, re-loading her pistol.

"There, just past the stream, I can see a cave," Morgana gestured with her right hand and winced. "We'll have to leave the scavenging, we don't have much time."

They crossed the stream quickly and plunged deep into the cave. Gwen pulled out their light pad and flicked it on.

"How bad is it?" Morgana asked, pulling off the damaged bracelet.

"Fuck, this is beyond what I can do here." Gwen turned the cell over in her hands. "We can get new casing off those trackers but I'm going to need a bonding agent for the wiring."

"You wouldn't happen to have any borax in your bag of goodies?" Morgana teased.

Gwen looked up at her, frowning. "This is serious."

"I know it is," she replied, her breathing laboured. "I can feel it building already."

"We need to get you out of here."

"What's the point? Either the magic builds until it splits my skull and I take out the entire sector or we wait til more bots show up and they kill us both," she laughed humourlessly, a bead of sweat rolling down her temple.

"There's got to be something! I refuse to die now when we've come so far!"

"There is one thing we can try. Kiss me."

"What?"

"I can try and accelerate the process and discharge the burst into our weapons."

"Morgs, you won't be able to control it, it'll kill you!"

"We're dead either way. May as well go out on a high note." She looked at Gwen imploringly and Gwen broke, launching herself across the small space and pressing her mouth to Morgana's.

Gwen could taste the sweat and ash from their firefight as she kissed down Morgana's chest, working at the buckles on her shirt, freeing her breasts.

"If you fucking die," she warned before taking one of Morgana's nipples in her mouth and sucking.

"I think it's working," Morgana moaned. "Go faster."

Gwen swirled her tongue around the nipple and made quick work of the rest of Morgana's clothes. She stroked Morgana's panties lightly but Morgana made an impatient noise and shoved Gwen's hand inside, grinding against the pressure. Gwen slipped her hand deeper and found Morgana's opening, thrusting two fingers upwards. Using her palm to massage Morgana's mound, she stroked her fingers back and forth quickly.

"Gwen, it's coming on too quickly." Gwen looked up at Morgana's eyes, already rimmed with gold and rapidly turning red.

"What do you need?" she drove her fingers up deeper.

"I ne-, mouth, I need your mouth," Morgana's head rolled back against the cave wall.

Gwen pulled her fingers out too fast, but ignored Morgana's cry of pain in favour of ripping her panties down and shoving her tongue inside Morgana's crack. There was no finesse to it, just Gwen licking and sucking anything she could get her tongue on. When Morgana let out her first started 'OH' Gwen knew she had hit the right tempo and concentrated on repeating the pattern.

"Fuck right there," Morgana choked out.

Gwen sped up her tongue and slipped one of her fingers back inside, thrusting quickly, adding vibrations. Morgana let out a sharp gasp as the first swell of her orgasm hit. Gwen kept going, feeling the energy pouring off Morgana in waves. Morgana came down with a sigh, catching her fingers in Gwen's hair, pulling her up.

"Told you it would work," she said, her chest still heaving.

Gwen rolled her eyes, checking the fuel levels on their weapons. "Next time you want to get me into bed just ask."

* * *

**55.**

Pairing: Gwen/Morgana  
Warnings: Past temporary character death(ish?)

Morgana stepped over the cracked threshold into the crumbled shell of the church, wings spread and sword in hand like a warrior queen of old. Her eyes scanned the reliefs carved on the remaining walls, looking for-

Ah, _there_. 

She sighed in relief, her wings rustling in echo as she stepped forward. With calloused fingertips she reached out, tracing features more familiar than her own, a spill of curls and firm, soft lips.

The wall began to glow. Light flowed along the clefts of stone like water running uphill, bringing warmth. Within moments, what had once been hard stone was soft flesh. And then Gwen was falling.

Morgana caught her one-handed, half an ear listening for sounds from outside, but all her being was concentrated there, looking down into Gwen's startled eyes as the crown she was still wearing slipped sideways.

Morgana let it fall with a clatter. Crowns and titles - those were nothing now.

"Morgana?" Gwen whispered. "Where-?"

"We're going home." Morgana set her on her feet.

"Home?"

But Morgana had already taken her hand, leading her across the ruined floor and out into what was left of the world.

~~~

After their second night huddled together, not daring to light a fire, Gwen's back began to itch. Morgana smiled and helped her cut slits in her shirt, making space for her wings to grow.

"Brown like a sparrow's," Morgana told her, "unlike mine."

Gwen took that as an invitation to touch, with a quick glance for permission. Her fingers on Morgana's primaries were careful but firm.

"Do they hurt?" she asked.

"No."

Gwen said nothing to that, but she didn't take back her hands. That night, they slept front to front, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same dusty air.

~~~

Morgana dreamed of finding Arthur, of huddling in a boat with his still form as several wyvern cried mournfully above them in the dark.

Which was silly. There were no wyvern left down near the Earth's surface. Like every other living creature with the power of flight, they had taken to the sky.

~~~

"How far is it?" Gwen asked when they stopped a few days later.

"That depends." Morgana conjured the muddy water in her flask clear. Where once mighty rivers had flowed, now only foul-smelling trickles crossed a cracked landscape, withered and crumbling. 

"Depends on...?"

"How long it takes you to fly."

Above them, cloud castles drifted against the wind, impossibly distant.

~~~

That night, Gwen offered her wings for inspection. Morgana's hands drifted gently, thumbs pressing where she knew the new skin would be the most sensitive.

Gwen shivered and made a sound in her throat. Morgana pressed her face to the middle of Gwen's back, between the roots of her wings, and kissed the skin there.

When she finally slept, she dreamed of an oak tree standing in an arid desert, its leaves shivering in the wind like green feathers, whispering. She dreamed of Arthur pressing his lips to the trunk, and wood melting into flesh, leaves into feathers.

She woke with Gwen's full-sized wings wrapped around her.

~~~

They flew up over the edge cloud-edge at dawn to find the city gleaming below. Silver-white walls reflected the sun like beacons. Beside her, Gwen gasped, and Morgana could feel the ripple of shock that ran up her body.

"Home," Morgana said, and Gwen _breathed_.

They touched down on a patio, its edges blurred by the encircling clouds, and Gwen's mouth crashed into hers before their feet quite touched down. The beating of their wings stirred the mist around them into eddies that spilled over their bodies as they tumbled into a horizontal tangle of feathers and limbs. Gwen's mouth found Morgana's breast, biting down and drawing a startled cry. Gwen's fingers were clever on the buckles of her armor.

Casting her sword aside, Morgana raked her fingers through Gwen's feathers, feeling the edges of them like a shield that would defend them both against anyone who might be watching from the towers above. When Gwen's thigh pressed between hers, she rocked down, swollen and desperate after so many nights of lying together, chaste but longing.

With a cry, Gwen arched above her, wings spread wide and face twisted in pleasure, sweat dripping down between her breasts. Morgana clutched her and rode her pleasure out like a storm..

After, Gwen lay with her head on Morgana's breast, tracing patterns with her fingertips. "We'll go back for the others, won't we?"

Morgana's wings curled around her. "Of course."

* * *

**56.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** A/O references, restraint.

**Invader**

He can feel the fever rising now, a slow, prickling urgency spreading from his loins over his skin and making him dizzy with need, even with the uncomfortable sensation of electrodes and straps all over his body. He hates it, feeling so helpless, in thrall to his alpha biology.

"That looks like it must hurt," the human observes, eyes wide as Arthur bucks uselessly against the restraints, too inconsiderately soft to offer distraction by chafing where his arms, hips and legs are strapped into the cot. A sympathetic flush pinks the man's striking cheekbones and sticking-out ears.

It's close enough to the appearance of heat, even without the intoxicating pheromones to support the illusion of an omega standing before him. Arthur growls for a moment, then whimpers. "Release me!"

"You were the one who warned us to restrain you," the human says, looking a little transfixed by the angry evidence of Arthur's state before his eyes. Damned rut. If he'd meekly accepted his father's choice of mate and bonded with whomever, he would not be overwhelmed like this, quietly going out of his mind. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Let me fuck you,"Arthur snaps, then he wants to sink into the cot and meld with the featureless medical bay with mortification. "Sorry, I'm not always so..."

The human (MO Merlin E Balson, Arthur reads off his tag and then promptly imagines him naked and riding Arthur's knot while Arthur moans, _Merlin, my Merlin_ ) glances over at the various human machines and frowns. "You're getting very warm." He reaches out and touches Arthur's neck. "And your pulse is racing and erratic."

"It will probably kill me," Arthur admits, and bucks uselessly again. He growls, deep in his chest. "I need..."

In answer, Merlin picks up the jug of water by the cot and pours it into a basin, starts wiping him down with a soft hand-towel. Arthur moans at the touch as much as the blessed coolness, however brief, running over his face, neck, underarms and his groin. "I can't medicate you - we have no idea which drugs will work on your race, or how. Does this help?"

Arthur laughs. "Of course. You only know the ones that will poison us. Why didn't you just let me die? I am the enemy. The prince of the invading alien forces. We've scorched whole cities, killed..." He shifts, shamelessly pushing his hard cock into Merlin's hand as the cool towel passes over Arthur's crotch again. "Touch me."

Merlin flushes, then snaps on a glove and takes hold of his cock firmly. Arthur nearly sobs in relief, fucking his hand as much as the restraints allows. "The same reason you came to us, alone and unarmed."

Even through the haze of lust, Arthur snarls wordlessly, and his next thrust is so forceful the edge of the strap cuts into his hips and something rips slightly with a low tearing sound. Merlin takes a quick breath and steps away from the bed.

"You know nothing!" He strains against the straps, but nothing else gives. It is too much. Arthur lets his body fall back into the cot, exhausted, wishing he hadn't made the attempt. "Please."

Merlin moves forward slowly, and takes him in hand again. "Tell me, then. How did you know where our base was? Why did you come to us, knowing you were on the verge of entering rut?"

Arthur closes his eyes and lets himself imagine Merlin on his knees between his legs, voice softer - less cool curiosity and more passion... He sighs, luxuriously rolling his hips into the possessive grip. "You. I dreamt of you." The grip turns almost painful, but it's good. "I dreamt you were mine. For years."

"You came to find me." Almost a whisper, almost what he dreamt.

"Let me touch you," Arthur murmurs, unthinking. "I promise I won't bond you, not unless you want it." He opens his eyes at the sound of a _click_ , heart slamming in his chest. "What are you doing - don't release me!" He grabs Merlin's wrist before Merlin can unlatch his other arm. "Get out!"

Still pumping Arthur's cock calmly, Merlin turns Arthur's grip around, lifts up his hand. The kiss he presses to Arthur's burning palm sends sensation crashing through him as his knot swells without being in a body and the first stage of his orgasm begins, impossibly.

"I have been waiting for you," Merlin says, "longer than you have sought me. Arthur."

* * *

**57.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/?  
 **Warnings:** unprotected sex

The stink of semen and unwashed male bodies assaulted Merlin when he ducked inside the door that led down the staircase to the Basement. By this point in the night, most people were so hopped up on whatever drugs they could scrounge from this wasted shell of a city, half of them wouldn’t even be able to fuck. Merlin preferred to keep his head clear. 

He had his own drug of choice. 

The narrow stairwell forced him to squeeze by a couple of blokes painting the face of a naked twink. Another few waited for their turn, stroking their cocks and whispering lewdly. The boy was pretty, but too young for Merlin’s taste. He looked up at Merlin, his big eyes blank, and licked a smear of come off his puffy bottom lip. 

Merlin used to be like that kid, in spirit if not in age. After the first bomb had fallen, when his magic had completely failed, when _he’d_ failed, and everyone he’d loved in this new world had been incinerated, he’d come here and been the meat in the sandwich with so many men he’d lost track. Now it was more like a bad habit. Then again, he didn’t have anywhere else to go except here to rot with the few that were still alive, eking out a bare existence. 

A familiar face greeted him near his regular room. “Emrys,” she said, smiling a catlike smile, “I’ve been waiting for you.” With her kohl-blackened eyes and streaming hair, Bree reminded Merlin of Morgana. 

“Oh, have you?” He played the game, though a droll cynicism had replaced numbness over the years. “And what have you got for me?” 

“A new bloke. You’ll like him. Blond. Fit. Handsome as the devil.” 

“I don’t want to see his face.” He glared at her. They had an arrangement. 

“Don’t worry.” She rolled her eyes as she pocketed the bottle of pills Merlin thrust in her hand. “He’s wearing the mask.” 

She sashayed away in her black miniskirt and left Merlin to push the door open and steal inside. His pulse stuttered. A man lay naked on the cot in front of him with his head turned to the wall and his lean body on display. In the oily lamplight, Merlin could see the blond fuzz of his legs, the smooth curve of his arse. His hair was blond, too, interrupted only by the black string that tethered the mask to his face. Bree had done well. 

“Don’t speak,” Merlin said, moving closer. “Just nod your head yes or no when I ask you a question. Are you clean?” 

The man nodded, and Merlin noted the cloth and basin of water to the right. A precious commodity. His cock began to lengthen, hardening in his jeans. He sat on the edge of the cot and ran his hand down the smooth musculature of the man’s rump. So much like Arthur. Merlin blinked back the surprising heat that threatened his eyes. He hadn’t cried in a hundred years and wasn’t about to start now, not for a fantasy.

“Are you afraid of magic?” he asked the man. A shake for ‘no.’

“Good.” Merlin closed his eyes. His whole body thrummed with the power he’d once called from the earth and the sky, the very lifeblood of Albion. It yearned towards the man on the cot.

He tore at his clothes impatiently, wanting to press himself against that unblemished skin. He climbed over the man’s legs to straddle him and took his perfect arse in hand, spreading the cheeks to get at the hole. He bit and licked and teased with his tongue, and then pressed one finger into gorgeous, clinging heat. In response, the man groaned and pushed back to take Merlin’s fingers inside him more deeply. A good actor, but Merlin could bring him real pleasure if nothing else. 

Merlin’s magic listened to the rhythm of the man’s longing, and his fingers followed, as did his tongue, and when he finally slicked and sank his cock into the man’s sweet arse, not even another apocalypse could have torn him away. He shook with the effort of staving off his orgasm, and then began to move. He kissed the man’s nape and buried his nose into silky hair. “Oh Arthur,” he panted. It didn’t matter what he said anymore. Albion was only a husk, and his beloved was gone.

“Gods,” the man said in a voice that stopped Merlin’s heart. “Merlin. Can it really be you?”

* * *

**58.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** incubus!Merlin, mild somnophilia

“He’s a _what_?”

Gaius sighed and repeated the statement with a forlorn look at his sick apprentice. “An incubus, sire.”

“An incubus?” Arthur echoed.

“Yes. Well, he _was_ a cambion, but now that he’s come of age—”

Arthur put up a hand. “Stop. Just tell me what he needs to get better.”

“Put quite simply, sire, he needs to have sexual intercourse in order to stay alive.”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat and a blush rose to his cheeks. “He…Merlin needs to…”

“Yes, sire.”

“I see.”

“He will not like my saying so, sire, but if there is anyone he would have to perform the task, it would be you.”

Arthur swallowed. He had wondered—had hoped—if Merlin might feel the same as him. Merlin’s emotions, like his opinions, were always written on his face, but the man was remarkably adept at keeping _some_ secrets it seemed  
.  
“Then as his king, and his friend, I will do it,” he said. Gaius smiled and squeezed Arthur’s shoulder before politely excusing himself.

Once alone with his manservant, Arthur took a deep breath. Merlin’s shirt had been removed to bring his temperature down. Arthur had only to take off his trousers.

With that done, he spread Merlin’s legs so he could settle between them and laid on his stomach, taking Merlin’s limp cock in his hand.

The reaction was immediate. The lines in Merlin’s brow deepened and he pursed his lips. The harder and faster Arthur stroked, the more obvious it became that Merlin wanted this. His hips jerked up and his cock filled until it was standing at attention.

Then Arthur took it in his mouth and Merlin gasped awake.

His piercing blue eyes were almost completely black with lust as he stared at Arthur in astonishment. “A-Arthur? What are you—oh _fuck_.”

Arthur’s tongue licking the slit sent a jolt of pleasure through Merlin and his question died in his throat. Arthur sucked him off as if Merlin’s life depended on it, and if his fading headache was any indication, it did.

In fact, Merlin felt the weariness of the last few days leave his body entirely. He felt renewed strength flow through his veins. Overcome with desire, Merlin waved his hand and suddenly Arthur was just as naked as him. Merlin pushed him down on the bed and wrenched his legs open.

“You have magic, too?” Arthur said breathlessly.

Merlin’s laughing eyes glowed in reply and Arthur immediately felt wet between his legs. Merlin pumped two fingers into Arthur’s arse experimentally and found the magical preparation to be a success. Arthur only registered Merlin meant to fuck him when the servant’s cock was pressing against his entrance and sliding in mercilessly.

Then Merlin caressed Arthur’s cheek. The look in Merlin’s eyes was more than frenzied lust now. It was a look of trust and love.

Merlin seemed to occupy Arthur’s every sense: the brush of his cock against Arthur’s prostate, the smell of their combined sweat, the sound of their desperate panting, and, when Merlin leaned forward to plant a deep kiss to Arthur’s inviting lips, the earthy taste of Merlin’s tongue. Merlin’s breath was hot in his ear, and his hands were like claws holding Arthur’s thighs.

Arthur’s body was overwhelmed but still it wasn’t enough. “Harder,” he moaned, “gods, Merlin, _harder_.”

Merlin grit his teeth and slammed into Arthur with enough force to bruise, each thrust punctuated with a low grunt. There was no coherent thought in Arthur’s mind, only _yes_ , _fuck_ , _more_.

Then Merlin made a noise, a deep guttural sound in the back of his throat, and stopped all of a sudden. His spine arched and his body was taut as a bowstring as he throbbed his release inside Arthur.

Arthur nearly cried at the loss when Merlin slid out. But Merlin kissed down Arthur’s torso until he reached Arthur’s cock and sucked it down in one smooth motion. Merlin’s fingers played with Arthur’s leaking entrance, warm come coating his nimble fingers. He inserted two slender digits just deep enough to rub against Arthur’s prostate and then Arthur himself was coming in hard spurts down Merlin’s throat. Merlin kept rubbing the spot until every last drop was pulled free.

“I’m feeling much better now,” Merlin said as they lay together in post-coital bliss.

Arthur just gave him a look, though his eyes betrayed the underlying affection. “You are the worst manservant ever.”

* * *

**59.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None unless you count outdoor sex?

Merlin was glowing, from head to foot he was glowing, his eyes completely golden. A bright, unearthly blue-white glow Arthur had never seen anything like it. He was floating twenty feet off the ground while a wind whipped around him as if from nowhere. 

Arthur didn’t know what to do. Merlin was completely out of control. Bolts of lightning were shooting from his fingers, felling trees and scorching grass all around him. The wind was whipping up miniature tornadoes that were swirling and cutting random paths everywhere. The air was charged. 

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled. 

“Arthur?” Merlin cried, “No, you’re not real. I saw you die.” Merlin shakes his head as if to clear the cobwebs and the winds whip up even further. 

“Merlin! No! I’m alive! It was a trick. Morgana tricked you!” Arthur yells above the turmoil. 

“Arthur? “ Merlin’s eyes flash back to their normal blue, “is that you? Is that really you?”

“Yes, Merlin, it’s me. You think you can get rid of me that easy?”

“Arthur, I can’t –I can’t control it! It’s too strong.” 

“Merlin, listen to me. You can do this. You can control this.”

“I can’t. I just can’t. It’s too strong. Just leave.” Merlin cries, lightening sparks across the sky.  
Arthur looks at Merlin and gives a small nod, “well, then there’s only one thing for it.” Arthur steps close to Merlin and waits. “I’m not leaving.”

“I’m not leaving so you just have to explode or whatever with me here.” Arthur juts out his chin and looks defiant. 

The wind calms down a little and Merlin sinks closer to the ground, “You insufferable ass!”  
Arthur just stands there and waits.

“Of all the pig headed, stubborn infuriating idiots, you have to be the biggest!” Merlin yells as he lands on the ground in front of Arthur. 

Just like that all of Merlin’s energy leaves him and he falls into Arthur’s arms, “you would have done it too." He whispers resting his forehead on Arthur’s shoulder.

“When are you going to figure out I’d do anything for you?” Arthur lifts Merlin’s chin and kisses his lips. 

“You are the other half of me. There is no me without you.”

“Dollophead” Merlin wraps he arms around Arthur’s waist and sneaks his hands beneath Arthur’s tunic, “but you’re my dollophead,” he kisses his way across Arthur’s jaw and nips his earlobe between hi s teeth. 

Arthur groans and makes quick work of Merlin’s tunic. It ends up slung across a bush on the other side of the clearing, “Want you, want you now.” Arthur mumbles as he works at the drawstrings on Merlin’s pants. 

“Always want you” Merlin says as he steps out of his pants. 

Arthur’s steps back from Merlin with great reluctance and quickly shucks off his shirt and pants. He crowds Merlin against the nearest tree and lick his hand before taking them both in his grasp as they start up a delicious friction. Their cocks sliding together with an obscene sound of skin on skin.  
It doesn’t take long from there. Both of them needing to reaffirm the other was alive and whole. Arthur goes over the edge first quietly groaning Merlin’s name as he comes. Merlin not long after stiffened and comes in Arthur’s grasp.

They both slump to the ground leaning against each other and exchanging sloppy kisses.

“Don’t ever make me do that again.” Arthur says weakly running his hands repeatedly down Merlin’s sweaty back.

“I promise,” Merlin grins, “I’ll never, ever have sex with you again!”

“MERLIN,” Arthur yells.

* * *

**60.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** minor powerplay and restraint

"Arthur, _please_ ," Merlin said from somewhere behind Arthur.

"Merlin, no," Arthur replied without even lifting his head up.

"Arthur, I’m going to _die_. My balls will be so blue and so tender, they will explode, I’m sure. And then I’ll bleed to death. And then I’ll be dead. All because you won’t fuck me." Merlin sighed dramatically and leaned over the back of Arthur’s big (comfy) leather chair, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, then slide their way down, past Arthur’s elbows, to his hips-

"Merlin." Arthur saved the document and grabbed Merlin’s wandering hands before they got all the way to his crotch. He pulled them up and above the chair, then spun around to face Merlin. Who went from his signature mock-pout to his signature cocky grin in a second flat, before plopping his bony arse on Arthur’s lap.

"Merlin, we've talked about this," Arthur said, running his hand over his face, rubbing some of the fatigue away. "I have to get this deposition finished before tomorrow or else my father will have my head."

Merlin grabbed Arthur by the chin (a too-tight grip that reminded Arthur of all the Pendragon Limited’s CEOs' wives cooing over him as a kid) and turned his face one way, then another. "We wouldn't want that, now. Then I'd definitely die of blue balls."

He leaned in to nuzzle his nose into Arthur's neck, smacking Arthur's hand away when he tried to pry him away, then grinding down and down into Arthur's crotch. 

"Merlin," Arthur tried again, this time a different approach. He rubbed his hand along Merlin's back and used his other one to twine with Merlin's. 

"Hmm?" Merlin was now placing soft kisses along Arthur's jaw, and Arthur had to fight hard (har) with himself (double har) to keep his hand on Merlin’s back from digging in and pulling Merlin into a kiss and forgetting the deposition and fucking him senseless into next week. 

But he couldn't. 

"Merlin." Arthur pulled Merlin by the back of his shirt, ignoring the spit-shine of his lips, the way he wriggled purposefully on Arthur's lap, and especially the effect that wriggling had on Arthur. "You know that the second I'm done I'll come find you." 

Merlin licked his lips. Arthur's hand did dig into the back of Merlin's neck then, but instead of kissing the whining out of him and bending him right over the massive desk, Arthur buried his face in Merlin's neck and let out an embarrassing laugh-sob combination. 

"But I'll die, Arthur," Merlin whispered into Arthur's nape, breath warm and ticklish, "I'll die without your gorgeous cock." Merlin kissed at Arthur's neck again, soft barely-there presses of his lips, and Arthur's resolve began to crumble, but not enough to not realize how ridiculous Merlin was being. "It'll only take five minutes, Arthur, please," He said between kisses.

Wait. What?

Arthur tugged on Merlin's shirt again and looked at him this time, feeling just a bit offended, and judging by Merlin's faux-innocent smirk (it's how he got Arthur in the first place, the faker), he knew exactly what he was doing. 

"Really, Merlin? Five minutes?" 

Merlin shrugged. 

The deposition lay forgotten as Arthur grabbed both of Merlin's wrists in his hand, holding them between their torsos, while his other hand snaked around Merlin's waist and held him tight. 

"You think it’ll take five minutes for me to kiss you breathless, then to kiss down your jaw and neck and bite at that spot on your shoulder you like so much?"

Merlin opened his mouth to talk, but Arthur dug his fingers into his side. "You think five minutes is enough for me to then strip you slowly, still kissing and licking every single inch of your body, just the way you like it?"

Merlin was panting, squirming in Arthur's lap, trying to free his hands. "No? Then how about for sucking your cock til your knees buckle and you’re screaming my name so loud the neighbours can hear?" Merlin let out a groan and began rubbing his legs together, tiny moans escaping his lips. 

"And then I finally bend you over the desk and eat you out until you’re so fucking loose I can slide in without anything. Will five minutes be enough for that?" Arthur asked directly into Merlin’s ear, biting at his lobe. "I wouldn’t want you to _die_ , Merlin. Will it be enough?"

Merlin’s body shook as he came untouched. 

Arthur chuckled. "Not dead after all, then."

* * *

**61.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Dub-con and Voyeurism

“ _What?_ ”

“No. No _way._ ”

“ _Here?_ With… _Why?_

Merlin and Arthur exchanged horrified looks, then immediately jerked away to sever eye contact, staring everywhere but at each other and renewing their futile attempts to squirm away from the guards who held them in place. Arthur could feel his cheeks burning, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Merlin’s overlarge ears had turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. 

“You can’t make us do this,” he said, glaring up at the dark-haired woman who lounged lazily in the large throne before them.

“Of course I can,” Morgana replied. She was grinning smugly down at the two of them, her hands resting with the palms facing upward on the arms of the stone seat. “I can make you do whatever I want, considering my…” she paused dramatically, “… _leverage_.”

Arthur felt panic stab his gut. “Who do you have? Where are you keeping them?”

“Oh, just a number of knights and innocent civilians. Without your cooperation, I’m afraid their futures look rather… dim,” she said offhandedly, but there was an excited glint in her eye. “I’m afraid their only hope lies with you — or rather, with you lying with Merlin.”

He flinched slightly. His face felt even hotter.

“Come now. Stop being such _babies_. You two—” she made a waving gesture with her hands, as though sweeping them towards each other, “—have some _business_ to take care of. I’ll say it once more. Fuck _now_ , or watch your friends die.”

“Y-You can’t be serious,” Arthur sputtered. “You’re — I’m the _King_ — and this is — you can’t — Merlin, _help_.”

Merlin didn’t look at him. He appeared to find his bare feet very interesting. “I… Our hands are tied. I don’t think we have another… um, option.”

Arthur stared in disbelief. Before he could retort, Morgana interrupted. “You better get on with it. I don’t have all day. Guards — you can let them go now. I’m sure they’re aware of how delicate their situation is. It would be easy for me to signal my men to… dispose of our other prisoners.”

As the men who had been restraining them stepped away, Arthur felt a sudden hopelessness fall upon him, and judging by the stricken look on Merlin’s face, he was feeling something similar. 

“Um,” he tried, then stopped, scrambling for something, _anything_ he could say. The chamber echoed with the sound of the door closing behind the guards as they exited the room. “A-Are you, um, sure? About this?”

Merlin gave him an incredulous look before going back to staring just to the left of Arthur’s head. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Neither of them made any move to begin. Then, with a sudden burst of determination, he shoved his trousers off, beginning to work at the laces of his tunic. Merlin followed suit, undoing the knot on his neckerchief and starting on his belt. Soon, they were down to their breeches, and soon they lost those, too, shivering in the stone chambers.

Arthur was suddenly very aware of Morgana watching them from her throne. “Do you mind?” he asked, hoping to preserve at least a few scraps of dignity. 

“No,” she answered. She made no move to leave; in fact, she seemed to sit deeper into her chair, as if to emphasize that she was not going anywhere.

With a sigh of defeat, he advanced towards Merlin, who gulped. “Well, um, I guess you can kneel on the floor now,” Arthur said avoiding Merlin’s eyes. “Or, whatever is most comfortable for you.”

Merlin finally looked Arthur in the eye, seeming suspicious and slightly offended. “Why don’t _you_ kneel? That works too.”

“I am _not_ going to get on my hands and knees while you—” he faltered. “I am the King of Camelot.”

“Arthur,” Morgana interrupted sharply. “You get on the floor. You will be the woman. Merlin, take him from behind. You’re the man.”

Arthur sputtered, then stooped down to the floor, silently fuming. He jolted suddenly, feeling Merlin’s slim fingers touch his exposed backside and enter him, preparing him. This was it. This was really happening.

“For Camelot?” Merlin asked from behind him.

“For Camelot,” he grunted. Then Merlin pushed inside, and he saw stars.

* * *

**62.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** none

Arthur would swear that he could actually hear the violent shudders that wracked his body as he raced back to the car and slammed it behind him. He could hear Merlin’s guffaws grow louder outside and finally Merlin landed with a thud in the passenger side of Arthur’s Gray Prius.

Merlin’s laughter turned into a harsh wheezing and if Arthur weren’t so annoyed, he might have become concerned. 

“You know if you don’t take a breath soon, you might actually choke to death.” Arthur chuckled darkly at the irony. “Do you know how ridiculous that would be? The world is ending and how does Merlin Emrys die - from laughing to death. That would be perfect for you.”

Merlin put a hand to his chest and caught his breath. “You know what? It would be worth it. You should have seen the look on your face, Arthur. It was just urine.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Of course Merlin would trivialize it like that and make Arthur seem like the one who overreacted. He had only known Merlin for three days, but it felt like much longer.

A meteor was sent to hit the Earth within seven days and Arthur decided to finally see the world as he had never done before. He even answered someone’s ad on Craig’s List looking for a companion. That person was Merlin.

He cleared his throat and shook his head. “You may be alright with buying some creep’s urine, Merlin but I am not.”

“His _diluted_ urine.” At Arthur’s arched eyebrow Merlin just shrugged. “I think that’s an important distinction.”

“I’ve read that urine has many important nutrients. It can cure cancer. And it can even improve sexual performance.”

Arthur wasn’t sure if he was it was just his imagination or he was projecting, but he could have sworn Merlin leered at him. His mouth went dry. He gulped and leaned forward to fiddle with the knob on the car radio. “We haven’t listened to any news reports in a while.”

Arthur could barely hear what the reporter was saying amongst the unusual amount of static. “...it’s coming at a far greater pace than all the scientists predicted. Through some telescopes you can actually see the meteorite make its descent. Despite the deadly consequences it is quite a beautiful sight. If you have any loved ones I suggest-”

Merlin snapped the radio shut.

Arthur tried to control his breathing, but it was too difficult so he pulled over at the side of the road. It was really happening. His last vestiges of denial slipped away. This was it. These could be his last moments on Earth. 

Merlin placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

When Arthur turned to him he could see Merlin’s chin tremble. For the first time he looked terrified, but there was still such strength and hope in his eyes. “Just because this is really happening, doesn’t mean there’s no hope.”

There were so many things he wanted to do. He wanted to scream at Merlin for still being so naive. Being optimistic solved nothing. It just made everything hurt worse. But he looked into Merlin’s eyes and the only thing he wanted was to be buried inside of Merlin. If this was it the last thing he wanted to see and feel was Merlin.

He launched himself forward and pressed his lips to Merlin’s in a tender kiss.

Merlin’s lips were just as soft and supple as Arthur had imagined. 

“Backseat.” Arthur gritted out. His self-control was slipping faster by the second.

Arthur swiftly managed to get over into the backseat. But Merlin did not have such an easy time of it. His gangly limbs got stuck in between the seats and he landed awkwardly face first into Arthur’s crotch.

“Can’t wait to get started, can we?” Arthur teased.

Merlin looked up and grinned. Then he slowly lowered his head and mouthed at Arthur’s clothed crotch, which was harder than Arthur could ever remember.

Arthur groaned and arched against the seat.

For someone clumsy, Merlin deftly managed to unzip Arthur jeans and gets his leg out from between the seats. His mouth engulfed Arthur’s cock seconds later. He took him down to the root.

This was better than Arthur could have ever imagined. Heat pooled in his belly and he felt like his skin was on fire. He heard Merlin gag but Merlin kept on going as he gripped the base of Arthur’s cock. 

Merlin slides his mouth off of Arthur with an obscene pop. He leaned his body back, and even though he hit the back of the front seat quickly he managed to take his pants off. 

Merlin prepares himself and soon has impaled himself on Arthur’s cock. 

Arthur moans. “God, Merlin you’re so tight.” 

He rocks forward slowly. He grips Arthur’s shoulders tightly as his pace picks up speed. Merlin flings his head backwards.

Arthur grips Merlin’s ass and shudders as he can’t hold back and comes inside Merlin. He comes and doesn’t think he’s ever going to stop. 

As Arthur comes down from his high, Merlin grins at him. “Looks like the world hasn’t ended yet. What do you want to do now?”

Arthur grins. “Keep fucking.”

* * *

**63.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

There’s a cardboard box under the bed. It has a layer of dust on the lid, decorated by dried blotches of blood that stand out like nauseating reminders of their mortality. Brushing some of the dust away, Arthur settles on his knees on the floor, thumb pushing at the edge of the letters written in black sharpie:

_this box is me if I can’t be_

Arthur rubs the spot between his eyebrows, pressing his eyes closed for a moment before he takes off the lid. He lets out a surprised laugh, strange and unfamiliar, at the sight of the cassette tapes and an old Walkman. Those things were obsolete decades before the war even happened, let alone now.

His amusement dies as abruptly as it came when he looks at the labels of the tapes.

_lost you in the crowd today_

He doesn’t want to listen to that, because he remembers the day they got separated in the chaos better than any fucking day in his life.

So he starts on the next one instead, running his fingers over the backs of the tapes knowing Merlin was the last person who touched them.

&&

“ _I always knew I’d end up talking to myself_.” Merlin sounds amused. His voice is light and Arthur can hear the smile in it. “ _But it feels like I’m talking to you, anyway, even if it’s really just me. And I’ve always felt like I could talk to you, even back when I thought you were a fucking tool._ ”

Arthur hates everything. He hates the world and his life and the vague feeling of a higher power he once believed in before all this shit fucked them all over.

“ _Some people just work together. It’s like when you use pen with paper – they’re two different things but they work, and they serve a purpose and it makes sense._ ” The tape scratches. “ _I mean, I’m the pen, obviously, because I’m sleek and I create things. You’re paper because you’re flat and tasteless._ ”

Laughing feels hollow.

&&

“ _Elena came by today. I don’t know if I can explain how good it was to see someone, to talk to them about memories. Because I have to remind myself that they are, in fact, memories and not things I made up. She still smells good._ ”

There’s a rustling on the tape, as if Merlin had moved. 

“ _Remember when we came home from that trip to your dad’s once? When I made noodle soup and you told me you thought astronaut was the most overrated profession._ ”

He doesn’t. But he remembers when they went to the beach and Merlin got tangled in seaweed. He remembers the sun and the way Merlin snorted when he laughed too hard.

&&

“ _I miss you so much. Fuck you. And fuck them. And fuck me for not holding your hand tight enough, and for not knowing where to look for you._ ”

&&

The feeling of blood filling his cock, making his head rush and his spine tingle, is a sensation he hasn’t paid attention to in a while. But he’s acutely aware of it now, as if feeling it for the first time, when he listens to Merlin’s panting breath on the tape.

He can hear the slick sounds of Merlin’s hand on his cock, knowing exactly the pace Merlin likes – the steady strokes of his hand and the way he curls his fingers over the head.

Closing his eyes, he listens to Merlin whispering his name and the breathy sighs he lets out as the bed creaks.

“ _Miss your lips on my neck. The way you’d laugh at my squirming and then hold me down, knowing how much I love it even if I pretend I don’t. Miss your thighs and your arms, miss holding onto them when you fuck me. Fuck. Arthur, why the fuck is this happening?_ ”

&&

“ _Elena says the area’s not safe anymore. They know about it. So I’m going. But these tapes are me. Right now, if you listen to them, I’m here. For you. But if you want to find the rest of me, I’m following Elena to the barricades in Mercia. We’ve heard they’ve been most successful. So come. If you found these. If not..._ ”

Arthur looks at the Walkman.

“ _No. You found these._ ”

* * *

**64.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** none

Arthur finds the abandoned car half-hidden in a copse of trees on the side of a dirt road.

He hesitates, glancing around as though someone will pop out to point a gun at his head or drive a knife into his gut. It wouldn't be the first time that's happened, and Arthur isn't keen to repeat the experience.

Nobody appears, and Arthur adjusts the rucksack slung over his shoulders before taking a cautious step forward. The sun is beginning to set, and sleeping in a car sounds like heaven compared to another night on the cold ground.

He uses his bag as a pillow and falls asleep with one hand wrapped around his knife.

*

Arthur dreams.

*

He's in a field, and in front of him stands a man. His hair is black as coal and his eyes flicker between blue and hot, burning gold. Both of them are naked and hard, but Arthur feels no shame.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"Emrys," the man answers. "It's time to save the world, Arthur."

Arthur laughs, bitter. "Haven't you noticed? The world has already ended."

"Something worse is coming," Emrys says.

The words burrow under Arthur's skin, the truth of them digging deep into the darkest parts of him. "Maybe there is," he says. "But what can I do about it?"

Emrys' eyes flicker once more and settle on gold. He doesn't answer in words, stepping forward and pressing his mouth to Arthur's. Arthur immediately falls into it, parting his lips for more, reaching out to pull Emrys against him.

They end up on the grass, Emrys rising above him and then sinking down, taking Arthur's cock deep inside. Arthur groans, and the air around Emrys shifts and shivers, until two huge black wings are rising up from his shoulders, a deep, burnished gold shimmering along the feathers.

Emrys rides him hard, slamming himself down over and over, fingers digging into Arthur's chest as he keeps himself steady. Arthur can't do anything except hold on, gripping Emrys' hips so tightly he imagines he's leaving bruises.

Arthur feels like he's burning from the inside, fire licking at his veins, pleasure so overwhelming he feels his eyes begin to sting. The tight heat surrounding his cock is too much, too much, and he grits his teeth as he tries to hold off just a little bit longer.

"Who are you really?" Arthur forces out, and Emrys' golden eyes lock onto his.

"Merlin," he says, and he comes, tightening almost painfully around Arthur. His wings tremble and curve until they're covering both of them, and all Arthur can see is black and gold.

Arthur follows him over, body arching as he cries out, the world blurring and fading until he's nowhere and nothing.

*

Arthur wakes with his own knife at his throat and a gun to his head. He stares up at the man straddling his hips – at the messy black hair and clear blue eyes – and has a single moment of clarity.

"You!" he gasps. "I dreamt of you!"

The man rears back, clearly startled, but the memory is already fading. Arthur frowns, trying to grasp at it, but it slips through his consciousness like water.

"What's your name?" the man asks suspiciously, and his voice sends a shiver of want down Arthur's spine.

"Arthur," he answers, sitting up and shifting closer to the door. He holds his hands out, placating. "What's yours?"

The man hesitates before saying, "Merlin."

The name niggles at something in Arthur's mind, but whatever it is remains just out of reach.

"Nice to meet you, Merlin. Can I please have my knife back?"

Merlin scowls. "How do I know you won't gut me as soon as I hand it over?"

"How do I know you won't put a bullet in my head?"

Merlin's scowl doesn't fade, but he does glance at his gun before flipping the knife and handing it back to Arthur handle first. Arthur takes it and makes a show of tucking it into his boot, eyes never leaving Merlin's. After a moment, Merlin shoves his gun into the back of his filthy looking jeans.

"I have some apples and cheese in my rucksack. There's enough for two if you'd like to share?"

Merlin's eyes light up and he glances hungrily at the bag before looking back at Arthur. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

As they eat, Arthur stares out the dirty car window at the ash-grey sky, and thinks: _something worse is coming_.

* * *

**65.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** none

“We need back up. Emrys is down. I repeat. Emrys is down,” Gwaine’s voice comes through the comm link. “The scumbags are running away through fire escape.”

“Team gamma, move in. Delta, block the escapes,” Arthur orders, rushing out of the hotel room that has been serving as their base during the operation. “Green , status report.”

“They injected him with something. He’s conscious but unable to stand. Seems to be in pain.”

Arthur runs down the stairs. Three levels before he bursts into the right hallway. 

“Clear,” he hears the gamma team leader shout.

Entering the room, he doesn’t waste any more time and lands on his knees beside Merlin. One look at him and he knows. And even if he couldn’t see, the smell is unmistakable. 

“We have three captured, one of them injured. The fourth is dead,” leader of delta team announces.

“Arthur,” Merlin whimpers, his eyes unfocused.

“I’m here,” he says and checks Merlin for any visible wounds. “Well done,” he adds to the comm. “Knock them out and wait for further orders.”

He knows there’s only one cure for Merlin’s current condition.

“Everyone out!” he yells.

-xxx-

“I knew it was a bad idea,” Arthur mutters to himself, carrying Merlin, trembling and moaning in pain, towards the only bed in the room. “But no, you had to do it. You had to. For the good of all the omegas who suffer because of those bastards and that damn heat serum.”

“I’m never ever again letting you go undercover,” he grumbles, stripping Merlin out of his jeans. “And don’t you dare die on me! Just because they overdosed you doesn’t mean you can give up.”

“Please,” Merlin whines, his eyes unfocused and wet with tears.

He tries to reach for Arthur but misses, his hand falling limply back to his side.

“I know, I know. Almost there,” Arthur soothes, kicking off his own trousers. 

There’s no time for perfection. He rolls Merlin onto his side and pushes two fingers against his opening. They slide in easily, more and more slick oozing out in time with the spasms of Merlin’s body. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Arthur whispers, breathing in the scent of his omega’s heat, his cock stiffening into full hardness. 

Merlin sobs through another wave of pain and Arthur pushes in, setting a frantic rhythm right from the beginning. For the first time in his life, he misses his teenage lack of stamina.

-xxx-

His knot expanding, he ruts into Merlin’s tight heat. He comes with a load moan, pressing himself even closer to Merlin while his cock continues to spurt.

Merlin’s moans never cease, but pain is no longer their cause. Wrapping his hand around Merlin’s cock, Arthur begins to stroke, hard and swift, almost brutal in his need to drag Merlin to his orgasm.

Merlin cries out and spills all over Arthur’s hand. Clenching around Arthur’s cock, he prompts him to fill his insides even more.

-xxx-

He’s exhausted and sore from knotting Merlin five times already, his cock dribbling last drops of come into Merlin’s channel.

“Please, let it be enough,” he murmurs into Merlin’s hair.

-xxx-

After the shortest report in history of the agency (“Both well. Requesting heat leave.”), they move to a fresh room. Running on last bits of energy, they shower together, leaning on each other for support, and finally curl together for some much needed sleep.

* * *

**66.**

**pairing** : arthur/merlin  
 **warnings** : fuck or die: dub-con

The stone floor of the cave is cold and hard under Arthur, the pain shooting through his kneecaps the only emotion he can identify clearly. The voices from their captors barely reach him through the overwhelming haze of the magic working in his system.

“He will take you.” He hears the sneering, the laughter. Malicious and cruel. “Let’s see how the great King of Camelot is panting like a dog in heat to bugger his Court Sorcerer into tomorrow.”

And he is: he’s the King of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Dragonslayer, married to Guinevere Pendragon, and he’s on his knees panting like a dog in heat because his skin is burning with the need to touch Merlin, to get more of him. Get more of his best friend, the one he has desired for years but has denied instead, because they can’t—but he can, he can, right now, with Merlin chained to the ground as he is, his powerful hands trapped in manacles repressing his magic, and Arthur is helpless. He’s heady with want, his cock is hot and hard and throbbing with need, and he hears their catcalls as he nuzzles, erratically, his way up the shaking line of the inside of Merlin’s leg. Merlin’s balls are soft and rough as Arthur laps over them with his tongue, as he helplessly, mindlessly, seeks out the dark secret place of Merlin further behind, the one he’s dreamt of, dreamt of touching, seeing, feeling—

“Look how desperate he is,” a coarse voice says, amused. From the corner of his eye, Arthur sees someone raise their hand, and the magic curls inside him, tightens, makes the insanity of the bottmless want boiling in his guts hotter, hotter. He growls with it and grits his teeth, nose buried in between Merlin’s arse cheeks. “This lil’ spell only shows what he really wants. It reveals his most base desires—his instincts, if you will. Our mighty King is a cocksucker. Loves being on his knees. Loves tasting the arsehole of his Sorcerer.”

Arthur does, fuck, he does—he can’t not, can’t not because they’ll kill Merlin if he won’t, and because he’ll kill himself if he won’t use this opportunity now that he has it. He’d have wanted it on a proper bed, preferably not out of his mind, and with Merlin’s consent—but he’s got this now, and it’s the only time, and he’ll use it. He’ll use it because Merlin’s responding after all, because after Arthur’s licked his arsehole pliant and loose and dripping he’s lapping at the spaces in between Merlin’s fingers and Merlin’s murmuring to him, murmuring, “It’s okay, I want this, want you,” lowly, only for Arthur to hear, because it’s what he needs to hear. Needs to know it’s okay like this, okay to do this, because if it’s not Arthur won’t ever forgive himself.

The relief doesn’t last long. The whip comes down a fourth time on his naked back, the sweat burning infernally in his open wounds, and Arthur bares his teeth in a grimace as he raises himself on his palms over Merlin. Merlin’s pale and shivering beneath him as Arthur opens him up, burns his way into Merlin’s tight sheath—pushes himself inside, where Merlin welcomes him, where Merlin wants him, and Arthur lowers himself to take Merlin’s mouth in a bruising kiss. To taste all the little “ah-ah-ah”s on his tongue that his cock fucks out of Merlin’s guts, to drag his thumb over the dirty arc of Merlin’s cheekbone as he pounds his desire, his need, his everything, against Merlin’s rear, mindless with it, stupid with it, helpless, helpless, hissing, “ _Mer_ lin,” as he bites into that seductive long line of Merlin’s neck, whispering, “I’m sorry,” over the sounds of their laughter as they watch the great King of Camelot on his knees screwing his sorcerer like a bitch in heat—as he raises himself on his legs and brushes his large hands down Merlin’s sides, over his fluttering belly, to close around his slim hips, raising him up, holding him there with his strong arms—and shoving him back, back onto his cock, and as Arthur roars out his release, the magic pounds inside his skull and veins and _works_ , reveals Arthur the way he is, and he sobs, “I love you, I love you,” bitterly, honestly, humiliated, but not wanting to be anywhere else but here.

* * *

**67.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** half-sibling incest, underage (16 and 18)

Merlin has never been this afraid. All he’s ever wanted was to blend in, stay unnoticed.

“I won’t let them take you,” Arthur says, fierce.

The concern in his eyes makes Merlin’s heart swell with love. He knows his brother would do _anything_ to protect him, but—

“Even you cannot defy the council.” —he doesn’t dare hope.

“No, I cannot,” Arthur acknowledges, “But what I can do, to save you from being another senseless sacrifice...”

Merlin lifts his head, looks straight at Arthur.

His brother means to take his virginity away.

They’ve kissed chastely when they were young boys, but... this is different. _Real_.

***

The lights are turned down, setting the room with a dim glow. Arthur grasps his wrist and pulls him, gently, to the side of the bed.

“Tonight, I’ll make you a man,” he says, his voice hoarse.

Merlin nods. His cheeks are burning, he knows it. They’ve talked about this like it’s a necessity, and it is, but he _wants_ it—wants his brother. Wants to see the flush of his skin as he’s aroused, his eyes as they darken with desire, his cock, oh fuck, his cock, as it stiffens and peeks out of its hood.

(He’s seen it, once, when Arthur had fucked a serving boy years ago and left his door carelessly unlocked.)

Arthur helps him unlace his tunic. His fingers brush at his collarbone, warm and trembling.

Merlin looks up. Arthur’s eyes are hot on him, intense, like he wants Merlin just as much.

The tunic slips over his head, and his chest feels bare in the cold of the room. His nipples stiffen, and Arthur’s eyes drop to them, his eyes feeling like a hot caress.

He reaches out to rub one, gently, then tweak it. Merlin shivers, makes a soft sound.

“Fuck,” Arthur whispers, “You’re so sensitive.” He pushes Merlin on the bed and then lowers his head, licking at one, swirling his tongue around it. Then the other. It’s too much, and Merlin fidgets, curling his toes.

“So hot in my mouth,” Arthur says, “little brother.” The reminder makes Merlin blush. It’s _wrong_ , even if they only share a father, though it doesn’t make him want Arthur any less. 

They start to kiss, and Merlin’s mouth opens under Arthur’s. He uses his tongue, sloppy and without any finesse, but it seems to affect Arthur because he moans once, deep and low in his throat. Arthur stops to fumble at their breeches, fingers clumsy, and Merlin helps, pulling and pulling until the laces break.

There he is, cock fat and flushed, nestled in coarse, blonde hair. Merlin stares, transfixed, as Arthur reaches for a pot of salve.

He’s prepared with Arthur’s thick, blunt fingers, pressing in and slicking his hole, efficient but gentle. It’s not enough; he wants Arthur inside him, and he tells him so in a voice that sounds shamefully needy to his ears.

“My brother, so hot for my cock, what would the council think?” Arthur murmurs, teasing. Then he grips himself in a hand, aligns himself, and sinks down slowly till he’s balls-deep in Merlin’s arse.

 _This is it_ , Merlin thinks in hazy pleasure, his brother thrusting deep into him. He’ll be safe now, now that he’s no longer able to be a suitable sacrifice. The council will have to find someone else from another family as a gift to appease the dragon. He groans as Arthur comes inside him in warm spurts, and they both reach between them to bring him off.

***

“What do you mean he cannot be a sacrifice?” Uther snarls.

“He is no longer a virgin, and the gods _must_ have a virgin,” one of the elders says, his voice brooking no argument. “We must give the Pendragon girl.”

Uther’s face crumples. Merlin gasps, wondering. It is known that there are only two blood children, the crown prince and the bastard son, born of a lowly peasant woman.

“Morgana must take his place.”

The court is caught in shocked silence. The king’s ward. 

A sob echos in the hall as she falls to her feet. Merlin cannot help but feel relieved, and then after, the guilt that he can be this callous.

* * *

**68.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

A simple question whispered among women washing in the river, 'Do you think the king's lack of heirs means we've fallen out of favour with the Gods?', turns into an epidemic of fear. Soon everything bad that happens is blamed on their king.

Arthur, the king they'd hailed as a gift from their Sun God, has now become their curse.

They whisper, "Arthur lies with that Dragon Keeper. Are the Gods telling us it's unnatural for men to lie together?"

"Maybe the Gods are angry with me," Arthur says, resting his head in Merlin's lap, late at night in their bed.

"Don't," Merlin says, petting the blond, shiny hair that sets Arthur apart from everyone, the sign he'd been born of the sun.

"What do the dragons say?"

'You love-sick fool! Don't fear your power - it's your destiny!'

"They say you're a brave warrior and a noble king."

"Then why is this happening?"

"Maybe..." Merlin thinks of Gwen, the frightened, unwed daughter of a knight, who the healer had confided in him was early on with child. "We can present a woman, already with child and claim it -"

"No. I won't lie to my people."

'No, you wouldn't. But I would for you.'

The next day, Merlin's tending to the dragons when a black spot creeps over the sun. It's unusual, scary, and he knows what the people will think, what sacrifices they'll make for their Gods.

Merlin runs towards the city, the power in him vibrating from panic. When he sees Arthur on an altar, untied, willing to die for his people, it explodes from his hands in a ball of sizzling, white light. It hits the priest standing over Arthur with a dagger and turns him into a pile of ash.

It madness then, people, including Arthur shouting, looking at Merlin with fear.

Merlin doesn't know what he's going to say, until he says it. "As Arthur is from the Sun, I am from the Moon. Your king is not cursed.

"He - he - do you expect a child of the sun to bear children like a mortal? Arthur and I are destined to mate - the children of the Sun and Moon and the Gods..." He looks around for Gwen and sees her standing with her father. "The Gods will bless us with a child."

Merlin approaches Arthur with his head bowed. "My King, I'm yours."

Arthur doesn't move, doesn't seem to understand they need to show the people that Merlin and his power serve the king, not the other way around. They need ritual. He removes Arthur's skirt, leaving the king naked. He kneels and rubs his palms with oil from a vial in his pouch. Despite Arthur's apparent shock, he grows hard as Merlin wets his cock with it.

Only soft murmurs from the crowd can be heard around them. Merlin stands, whispering, "Arthur, trust me," and he's not sure why Arthur does, but he turns Merlin, pushes him against the altar, and lifts his skirt. Merlin feels oil dripping over his hole before he even realises that Arthur had taken it from him. It makes him hard. Arthur says in his ear, "I think you've gone mad, but I'm curious as to how this ends." Merlin laughs and Arthur slides his cock in.

It's difficult to think with Arthur pounding into him, but the spot on the sun shrinks and Merlin thinks maybe the dragons had been right. Maybe this is what the Gods want.

Arthur's rhythm falters and Merlin spreads his legs, lets him in further, flexing his muscles until Arthur stills and quietly spills his seed inside of him. Merlin stands and presses against Arthur's chest, stroking himself with firm, quick strokes as Arthur holds him. He comes hard, spilling his seed on the altar. Then breathless and tired, but determined, Merlin calls up his power again. A ball of light rises from the altar. "Our seed is now one," he shouts, "the Gods will choose a vessel to carry our child." The ball hovers and then flies over to Gwen, into her stomach. She gasps. The crowd gasps and points to the sky where the sun is complete again.

Before Merlin can speak, Arthur steps forward, holds his hands up to the sky. "Thank the Gods!"

The crowd cheers. Merlin can see the reverence in their eyes once again. He looks at Gwen, she's smiling, tears in her eyes. He looks at Arthur, who is looking at him with worship and Merlin truly feels like a god.

* * *

**69.**

**Pairing:** Morgana/Uther  
 **Warnings:** incest

Though clouds now blocked out most of the ravaged sky, she stood at the edge of the rampart, staring out over the desolate landscape as if the world wasn’t awash in red and gray. No wind rustled the hem of her torn dress. It had died when the last man fell. Broken stone crackled beneath Uther’s boot as he stepped closer, but if she heard, she gave no sign.

“Surveying your kingdom, Morgana?”

Her sole reaction was a twitch in her proud jaw. “Aren’t you dead yet?”

“Because you haven’t slaughtered enough men today?” Uther clicked his tongue in censure. “You really must learn to recognize when enough is enough. You’ll hardly be an effective ruler if you don’t.”

That finally broke her stasis. As she whirled around, her eyes flashed gold. “This is all your fault, you know. If you’d yielded—”

“A good king never yields!” The anger he’d barely held in check throughout the battles snapped. He shocked both of them by trapping her wrists in one hand, using the surprise to whip her around and pin her against the stone with his body. “Look at what your arrogance has created, Morgana. This destruction. This death. You allowed this to happen by bringing magic into Camelot.”

He expected her to fight. After all, that was what she’d done ever since marching into the city with Cenred’s army at her command. She’d never given up, not when the undead revolted, not when spell after spell had destroyed what she’d sought to gain. As far as he could tell, they were the last survivors, but he would die with her if that was what it took to end this madness.

Instead, a shudder wracked through the flesh so intimately pressed to his, and a wounded cry tore from her throat. It devastated his reckonings, loosening the lock of his hands. His instincts wanted to console her. All he could do was bend and brush a kiss across the side of her neck.

Morgana froze. He knew he should let her go. She’d made her feelings for him perfectly clear.

But just as he thought he knew she’d fight, he was wrong about this, too.

She twisted in his arms. Gone was her fury, in its stead an anguish he recognized all too well. A flush crept down her neck, staining the swell of her breasts in a pink too seductive to resist.

His second kiss was at the hollow of her throat. Her whimper reverberated into his lips.

Too much. His next kiss fused their mouths together, tongues dipping into hot crevices that made his cock ache. Morgana clung to him, but as she coiled her leg around his, better nestling the line of his erection against her pussy, her nails raked along his back.

Uther hissed. His riposte was a bite at her lower lip, a thrust against her hips that made them both moan. He wanted only one thing, to sink into her wet flesh as he’d desired for too long. No one was left to judge him.

Even if there were, he was still king and Morgana powerful enough to destroy whoever might stop them.

He shoved her dress out of his way at the same time she freed him from his trousers. One thrust, and he was sheathed, her cunt as exquisitely tight as he’d ever dreamed. He didn’t want to move and shatter the bliss of that moment, but when Morgana squirmed against him, impatient and hungry, Uther had no choice but to obey her unspoken demand.

His balls stung from the rough slap of his strokes. Grace was gone, feral need all that remained. Morgana gave no indication she noticed, gasping between vicious kisses, shuddering when he slipped a hand between their bodies to pinch and pull at her clit. It took mere moments for her to scream, her body contracting so tightly around him he thought he’d snap.

He came on the second thrust after, incapable of lasting any longer, unwilling to let her go once his orgasm subsided. He stayed inside, his come dripping around his shaft to wet her thighs with more than her juices, and buried his face in her neck.

Her lips found his ear. “I could kill you now, you know.”

He smiled. “You won’t.”

“And why is that?”

His lips moved against her skin. She would wear his words as his vow until the time came for more.

“Because a good king also needs his queen.”

* * *

**70.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Underage (Merlin is 15, Arthur is in his late 20s)

They let the barriers down for a boy, picking his way through the empty streets, alone. He only shrugged when they asked where he came from; not that many safe places left.

Arthur first saw him in the mess hall. The boy had plopped his tray down next to his. 

"I'm Merlin," the boy had declared and Arthur had agreed. 

From then on, Merlin had taken to following him around, having refused to go to the makeshift school for the other children. He came along when Arthur was on guard duty, and invited himself to Arthur's cramped room at the end of the day.

"I wasn't always this young," Merlin told him, inanely, and Arthur blew smoke rings in his face.

"Whatever kid."

It's not that he disliked Merlin, because he didn't. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, even if he was half Arthur's age. It was that sometimes Merlin looked at him like he knew more about him than even Arthur knew.

"We would be a great team in the field," Merlin said, swinging his arm through the air like a weapon. "Side-by-side, defeating the enemy." He made explosion sound effects.

Arthur kicked him gently in the side, where Merlin was sprawled across his bed. "Like brothers?"

Merlin frowned at him. "Not like brothers."

Arthur laughed, making Merlin scowl.

The next day Arthur took Merlin to the practice field, teaching him rifle, revolver, semi-automatic, right hook, block, left jab. They were both tired and bruised by curfew, but the aching twinge in Arthur's chest eased.

"I feel like I've known you for a very long time, but I've only just now found you," Merlin whispered to him one night into the hollow of his neck. Arthur shut his eyes, his dreams presenting themselves: chainmail, a sword, the lake, Merlin crying, his face older, golden-eyed. He pulled Merlin in tighter.

The leaders wanted to move camp, but some disagreed. Arthur paid no notice. He had no one left out there, no one to care for. Well, almost. 

Merlin sidled up to him as the talks ended, slipping a hand into his. "I'll never leave you," he said fiercely, and Arthur could only nod, holding tight.

Sometimes Arthur got confused and caught flashes of Merlin with long, lithe limbs and broad shoulders, but then he blinked and Merlin was a gawky teenager again, too skinny. 

He _wasn't_ confused, merely drunk, when Merlin pressed him into a wall and kissed him after a night of drinking away his thoughts at the pub.

"Merlin," he gasped, pushing him away. Merlin scowled and pouted.

Arthur brought him back to his room. "How old are you anyway?" he asked, refusing to sit next to Merlin on the bed. 

Merlin crossed his arms. "Sixteen in a month." Arthur looked away and swallowed. 

"It's just that-" Merlin came closer to him, touching his hand. "I don't feel fifteen. I feel like I've known you forever, and I'm tired. I'm tired of living for centuries and just loving you and only you." His voice cracked as he touched Arthur's face.

Arthur shook his head. "You can't," he said weakly. "We don't-"

"You get them too, don't you?" Merlin asked, his voice broken. "The dreams."

Arthur dug his fingernails into his palm. In his dreams he loved Merlin fiercely, more than he did now, and physically, with kisses and bite marks and writhing beneath the sheets.

"Merlin," he said softly, and Merlin kissed him. Arthur let him, let him tilt his head down and explore his mouth gently with his tongue. Let him pull on Arthur's shirt, fingers scrabbling at the hem before Arthur could take it off. 

Merlin was gasping, leaving sloppy, wet kisses at his neck, frantic. Arthur pushed him towards the bed, laying him down and shushing his noises of protest before he stripped off Merlin's shirt, kissing down his chest, seeing stretches of muscle in one blink and a pale skinny chest in the next. Merlin mewled against him as he licked over his flat stomach, stopping to unbutton his jeans and ease them over his hips.

Merlin was half sobbing under his hands as Arthur mouthed at his hard cock through his briefs, whimpering when Arthur gripped him in long pulls. 

"I came back for you," he choked out, before tipping, keening, over the edge and spilling over Arthur's hand. Arthur held him, after, gripping too tight, nose buried in Merlin's hair, whispering, "I've got you," and "I'm here," and "I've missed you, Merlin, god I've missed you."

* * *

**71.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Gwen  
 **Warnings:** Dub-con/non-con, aliens-made-them-do-it

“Look on the bright side,” said Merlin. “At least there hasn’t been any _anal probing_.”

His voice was low, his head ducked down so they wouldn’t notice he was talking. Under ordinary circumstances Gwen might have laughed. 

“Well,” he went on, “not _yet_ , anyway.”

Gwen had asked the other abductees – the other prisoners – and two things she knew with relative certainty:

1) None of them had actually seen the aliens.

2) Merlin had been onboard the ship longer than anyone.

They’d woken up together maybe half an hour earlier in one of the testing chambers, naked – they’re always naked – and bound at the wrists with invisible shackes. They were in the middle of a circle of empty space which – they had discovered through industrious knee-walking – they could not leave lest they be shocked. They got shocked for standing up. They got shocked for talking too long or too loudly. When one of them got a shock, they both got a shock.

Gwen’d gotten pretty familiar with the rules.

The lights in the room went up, and Merlin jerked, his back arching. 

They all had an implant, but only Merlin’s was affixed to the top of his spine, and only Merlin’s allowed for communication with the aliens. He said he thought he was the subject of an ongoing experiment on the human nervous system. Gwen privately thought that, since Merlin was himself so oddly otherworldly and alien, he might just have been the only one they _could_ communicate with.

“Oh, no,” he said, “oh, no no no…” The clutch of the shackles fell away. 

“What do they want us to do?”

He swallowed. “They want to study human – I don’t know, _mating practices_.”

Gwen stared at him. “You mean they want us to fuck?” she blurted out.

“I guess, yeah.” His breathing was speeding up. The aliens had a direct line into his brain. She’d seem them flood his system with adrenaline and endorphins before; how hard could arousal be to achieve?

For about half a minute he writhed and the noises that dropped from his lips sounded pained. Then they got the right cocktail of hormones flowing and his body snaped taut again. Gwen counted maybe five desperate breaths before he was hard.

“No,” he gritted out, “please, I won’t, I –”

A shocked jarred through them both. Gwen tried to breathe through it.

“I’m sorry.” Merlin was shaking harder than ever. “Gwen, I’m sorry –”

“It’s okay.” Gwen reached for him, cupped his face in her hands, pushed her body against his. “It’s okay, We have to do it. We don’t have a choice.”

The aliens did not shock them again; probably they thought the touching Gwen was doing part of the ‘human mating process’, so she took advantage of that, took a few moments to calm Merlin down.

They couldn’t make her aroused, or else they didn’t want to, but whatever they’ve done to Merlin makes him eager enough to have his fingers up her cunt that it’s not a problem – or maybe he wanted that anyway, Gwen wasn’t sure.

She pressed her face into his neck while he played with her, tried to forget where they were and enjoy the slick drag of his fingers in and out. His cock was jerking against her belly.

He made a frantic noise that thrummed through her where their chests were pressed together, and his fingers were tugged out of her.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Gwen said. “It’s okay, c’mon –” She lifted her hips and sank down onto his cock.

He rutted into her like an animal, arms looped around her waist, breath hot and wet against her shoulder.

Gwen wasn’t sure if she wanted to enjoy this or not. She wanted not to be shocked again – but it was _good_ , the deep slow push of him inside her, his muscles tensing and shaking against her skin as he struggled to control himself. She pushed back, rocking against him, forcing noises out of him that made her stomach clench.

By the time he came inside her, every inch of her skin seemed to be flushed and burning. She wanted to touch herself, but his hands were clutching her hips so hard it almost hurt.

“M’sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Gwen said again. Her thighs were shaking. “Really, it’s okay.”

He kissed her, kissed her like he meant it, like she was the only thing that mattered – but Gwen couldn’t tell if it was real.

* * *

**72.**

**Pairing** : Gwaine/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

The problem with the world ending was that everything was just so _boring_. Power lines down, communications satellites adrift in space, no gas to run the trains or cars… Yeah, sure, sometimes there were the few alien stragglers that decided to hang around and use humans for their main sport, but for the most part trying to eke out an existence on the devastated earth was absolutely tedious.

Aside from risking life and limb to find food, there really wasn't much to do in the day other than look up at the ceiling. Gwaine knew that ceiling inside out by now, had counted all the cracks and even noticed whenever a new one appeared. He was also pretty proud of the one spot on the wall that had a large glob of come still stuck to it. He stared at it whenever he wanted to bask in how awesome his sexual prowess was, which was actually often these days simply because there was nothing else to do.

He startled upright when the heavy door creaked open. Merlin stepped inside and bolted the door to their safe house shut behind him. "I saw one of those aliens using an iPhone!" 

Gwaine grinned at him. "Did you ask to make a call?"

Humorously, Merlin blushed. "No, not using like that. Using like… uh, remember that time Gwen forgot to lock the door to her apartment and we all walked in on her with the phone between her legs?"

That got Gwaine to laugh, probably louder than he had in a long time. The image of an alien with the exact same embarrassed look on its face as Gwen, stammering some sort of explanation of how the phone just _happened_ to fall between her legs and she just _happened_ to not be wearing any underwear… 

Merlin looked more shocked than amused, but that was understandable too. Gwaine opened his arms and motioned Merlin to come sit next to him on the mattress. "So how was your day?"

"Oh, y'know. Raided some abandoned houses. Walked over the corpses of children. Saw an alien masturbating with an iPhone." 

"Sounds fun. I stared at the ceiling all day. I'm dying of boredom." Gwaine waggled his eyebrows at Merlin. "Think we can do something to brighten both our days?"

"Again?"

"Didn't you hear me? I'm _dying_ of boredom. Literally dying. If you don't fuck me, I'll end up dead."

"If we keep fucking this often, I might die instead," Merlin mumbled, but then he shrugged and began stripping his clothes off. "Gotta get that image of the alien out of my head somehow."

"That's the spirit!" Gwaine's clothes joined Merlin's on a pile on the floor. He pulled Merlin into his arms and gave him a proper welcome-home kiss. He wasn't really in any rush to get off. Being bored all the time had taught him the true value of foreplay: more time got wasted.

Honestly, he didn't know how he'd have survived without Merlin. He shuddered to think of how being stranded with Arthur would have gone. Then he started shuddering properly as Merlin moved his kisses a lot further down.

"You know what I miss?" Merlin said suddenly, just before he did anything really interesting with his mouth.

Gwaine groaned. "Porn?"

"No. Lube. I mean, rimming is fine and good, but I'd really like to do this with less friction." At least Merlin did get to the rimming, and he was getting to be a right champion at it. Always made Gwaine feel like he'd be able to shoot buckets of come.

Merlin replaced his tongue with his cock--it was probably the best cock in the world right now, Gwaine thought--and fine, Gwaine didn't shoot quite as high as that spot on the wall but it was still pretty good when he finally climaxed. He kept thrusting back against Merlin until he felt Merlin coming inside him.

That probably killed like half an hour.

Merlin snuggled into Gwaine's embrace and pulled a sheet over them. Gwaine wondered if he should mention the stickiness sliding out of his ass but decided against it. The sheets were already a mess anyway.

"I'm so glad you're here with me," Merlin said. "Honestly, I don't know how I'd have survived without you."

Gwaine tightened the embrace. "I know what you mean."

They lay in silence for a moment.

"Man, I wish we still had that bacon flavored lube."

Merlin burst out laughing, and Gwaine thought that made the day pretty productive.

* * *

**73.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Dubcon/Noncon, Addiction (other characters), Slavery

Since the Purge, there are two types of people: those who are rich enough to own Wards and those devoted to feeding from them. Arthur has always been capable of former, given his family's name, but he's determined to never be the latter. Before he can make an attempt to steer a course for Albion that ends the slavery and find peace, he has to Acquire a Ward.

The thought twists his stomach, thinking of his mother's soft face, and it's why he leaves it to the very last moment.

"The council won't make a move until you have one," Leon says idly. They're watching the bonfires. They last all night, fueled by the heat given off of feeding orgies.

The bonfires keep burning long after he's looked away.

~

He's touring a small town outside of the city, known for their golden rivers, when he finds him. The town is small and half its inhabitants are waiting outside for their turn to feed. An entire town of feeders is rare but rarer still that there are enough Wards to keep such addictions thriving.

Arthur expects to see a feast-house full of Wards.

He only finds one.

Like all Wards, he's blissed out on the power of the feeders need—head tipped back on the table as his body spasms with a pleasure that looks long past the threshold for pain. Unlike any Ward Arthur has ever seen, the leads that flow out of him are bright gold and numerous. Arthur can count at least thirty feeders, many ruddy with their own pleasure—touching each other as they suck eagerly on the Ward's magic.

Arthur finds himself close enough to watch the Wards eyes roll back into his head. He struggles to blink and a faint ring of dark bronze is visible through the sooty fan of his lashes.

"Him," Arthur says. "I'll pay whatever I have to but I will Acquire the rights to this Ward."

There is a flurry and a few protests but the Pendragon name carries enough weight that it only takes a few hours for Wards from the slaughter houses to be brought in as replacements. It is dark by the time the last feeder is weened.

"His name?" Arthur asks when the room is clear of strangers. Only Leon, the Ward and himself remain.

"They call him Emrys," Leon says with a smile before he leaves. "Ambitious but not ridiculous, I don't think."

The Ward is still writhing, pleasure from feeding leaving him rung-out and practically unconscious, making soft noises of protest. Arthur doesn't know how long he has to wait for someone who serves this many feast-house feeders to wake but he feels impatient and uneasy.

"They say Emrys was the Dragonlord that closed the last reign of darkness," a voice says, startling Arthur. He turns to see an old women in the shadows. She has the hollow look of a feeder but softer, worn down. "They say that only Emrys can restore Albion to greatness."

It is a story—merely a fairytale—but one Arthur knows by heart.

"When can I take him home?"

This time, she cackles. "You can _take_ him, Arthur Pendragon, when you give him more pleasure than a feeder's spyre."

He does not have time to be gentle.

She leaves after Arthur snarls, settling knobbly knees into the crooks of his elbows. Emrys is pretty enough and Arthur is ashamed of how hard his cock is, already jutting and ready to bury itself inside such a willing body.

He feels sick but Emrys arches, his body soft and opening to the length of Arthur's cock and the pleasure that whips through them both drives Arthur's hips forward.

It's an addiction in itself, the soft give of his mouth and then the jerk of reality that Arthur can see forcing itself into the Ward's body by way of opening him up, fucking deeper until all Emrys will feel is the pleasure of a fuck, instead of a feeder's spyre.

One violation for another.

Emrys screams, body shocked and glowing gold for the roughest of Arthur's thrusts.

For the first time since his mother's death, Arthur feels the pleasure of magic reaching out instead of being gutted out and the thought sends him spending inside of Emrys with jerks of his hips. When Arthur opens his eyes, Emrys' belly is painted with his own come and Arthur finds himself staring into eyes no longer clouded by a feeder's loop.

"Mine," he claims but he means, _For Albion_.

* * *

**74.**

**Pairing:** Gwaine/Lancelot/magical plant  
 **Warnings:** dub-con/non-con, tentacle (in the form of an alive vine plant), bondage, frottage

They were sent out to investigate reports of attacks in the forest after villagers came to the court screaming about a monster with endless limbs. That’s how Lancelot finds himself tangled in the vines of a huge plant which rose from the undergrowth and attacked.

He twists and fights to get away but the thing pulls his sword from his grasp and binds his wrists above his head. His chain mail and clothing is stripped away. Gwaine gets pulled against him, his wrists are lashed together behind Lancelot’s back.

“You look good with your hands tied.” Gwaine is naked, hard and pressed right up against him but it’s his hushed words which send a hot pulse to Lancelot’s cock. When Gwaine rolls his hips and rubs them together, Lancelot moans softly because it makes Gwaine’s eyes darken. 

Then Lancelot feels the vines slide between his buttocks.

Those things aren’t Gwaine so he tries to jerk away. Smaller vines whip around his throat at a frightening speed and Lancelot hears a threatening hiss over Gwaine shouting his name.

He stills, only just able to breathe.

Things feel cold now but the plant keeps moving. When it spreads his buttocks the pull is harsh and a gasp jumps in his chest. 

“Keep your focus on me,” Gwaine instructs. He tugs his bound hands at Lancelot’s back to press their bodies together without a breath able to get between them. “Don’t fight. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m not afraid.”

He’s not. But he knows it will hurt. Gwaine once convinced him to try dry-fucking and Lancelot had almost passed out.

The vines press against Lancelot’s throat. Not enough to choke him but Lancelot still feels the threat. One more pull against the vines, they would tighten and he’d die. 

The roll of Gwaine’s hips makes it easier. Lancelot feels the heat throng between his legs again and lets his eyes slide shut. Smaller tendrils curl around his balls, shudder against him, start to wrap around the base of his erection. But Gwaine keeps moving, grinds them against each other even as the vines creep up to bind their cocks together.

The vines move up and down and pulse against them. When Gwaine kisses him, Lancelot feels his tongue push into his mouth and slides his own against it. Their tongues twist around each other and both groan, lost in it for a moment.

Gwaine’s body suddenly jolts and he groans painfully into Lancelot’s mouth. The vines around their cocks tighten and then quicken their movements. With the grasp still on his throat, Lancelot remains mostly still. But Gwaine twists and writhes against him, groans and cries out and so quickly becomes a hot quivering mess against him.

When the plant pushes up inside Lancelot, the vines are brutal in the way they almost stab their way into him, rough and fast, like it wants to tear him apart. He feels his screams surge in his chest but desperately bites them back, doesn’t want to do anything which will cause the vines around his neck to squeeze. 

Gwaine pants hard against his neck. His body thrusts into Lancelot as the vines drive into him. He seems to fight to keep his hips moving and their cocks rubbing together.

“Oh, _fuck!_ Lance-“ Gwaine presses his mouth against Lancelot’s jawline. And Lancelot can feel the vines which fuck his partner. They pulse, thrust and make Gwaine shudder as they slowly undo him.

Gwaine kisses him again, hard but brief, snatched between gasped breath and moans which are agony and ecstasy twisted together.

The vine inside him curls and Lancelot’s vision shatters.

“Ah! Fuck, that’s- _ah!_ ” Gwaine gasps for breath between hissed curses. He bucks his hips fiercely, grinds himself hard against Lancelot. 

The vine twists inside him again and Lancelot lets himself scream as his body breaks apart.

 

He wakes up on the forest floor. Gwaine is sprawled on top of him, asleep or unconscious.

A dull ache thuds in his body so Lancelot lies still as he looks around. The plant has retreated back into the undergrowth.

Lancelot finds his sword within arm’s reach. He’s also able to grasp his gambeson and drape it over his and Gwaine’s hips.

He needs to tell Merlin about that thing. Merlin will have the magic to get rid of it.

Lancelot lies back onto the forest floor, holds his weapon ready and draws Gwaine close as he waits for him to wake up.

* * *

**75.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Percival  
 **Warnings:** Non-con on the side of both parties

“I won't do it. He's barely off his mother's teat.”

Percival heard the crack of her whip before it struck against his chest.

“You really don't have much of a choice in the matter,” Morgana snapped, before she turned and left the ring.

Percival hardly remembered what it was like before. He had been a child when the first wave of plague went through and an adolescent when magic was blamed for the second wave. He steeled himself and approached the boy as the crowd gathered outside the ring began to jeer.

He was accustomed to the catcalls from Morgana's followers. When she had grown tired of watching him fight, she decided to use his body for a different sort of sport. And when she discovered he had a much easier time getting aroused for men, the game changed. 

Normally she tossed in a man with a physique similar to his, forcing them to fight for the choice of top or bottom position after. But this young man, this boy, Percival wondered what he had done to earn Morgana's wrath.

The young man was standing defiantly with his hands on his hips and his chin jutting out, although he, too, was covered in bleeding wounds from the whip lashes and bruises from Morgana's henchmen. 

Percival tried to imagine his tall but lanky frame filled out and his dark hair not bloody and matted. But it was the boy's lips—pursed in a pout, lush, and red—that finally got Percival's dick to react.

When he reached his destination, he went for those lips, grabbing the back of the boy's neck and bending down for a kiss. The boy didn't participate, but he didn't resist, allowing Percival his taste.

The angry on-lookers booed in response. They didn't want tenderness; they wanted a struggle. But their protests seem to spur the boy into action. He brought his hands up to Percival's chest as he stepped forward to deepen the kiss. 

The boy brushed his fingers across Percival's wounds, and Percival felt a tingle shoot through his body.

So the boy was magic, then. That would explain it. 

“Give the people what they want,” Morgana called out, cracking her whip in warning. “Take the boy.”

Percival wanted to reassure him, whoever the boy was, that in spite of his size, he would rather be gentle, would rather lavish attention on the boy's creamy skin. Instead, he grabbed him by the hips and turned him around quickly, making it appear more forceful than the actual gesture. 

“Now, now. Merlin here can take it. He can take it all. Can't you, Merlin?” Morgana sneered.

As she spoke, Percival slipped a finger down to the boy's hole. He, Merlin, was already loose and wet with oil. 

It was either give in now or they would both take another beating later. 

So Percival stroked his cock while he nudged Merlin's feet into a better position. When he was hard enough, he put an anchoring hand on the small of Merlin's back and pushed in hard. Merlin cried out, more in shock, it sounded, than pain. 

The crowd erupted in a cheer. 

Percival pulled out all the way and slammed in again. 

“Relax,” he whispered, hoping the boy would hear.

The third push was easier than the second, and the fourth still easier. Merlin seemed to give in, letting Percival use his body roughly. But then he started pushing back to meet each thrust and silencing his cries, so as not to give the audience fodder.

Percival tightened his grip on the boy's hips, fucking into him hard and steady, disgusted at himself that he was enjoying the act far more than he should, far more than he had before. Something primal in him was breaking and he wondered if there wasn't some flicker of magic at work. 

He grabbed the boy's hair and yanked, causing his back to arch in a graceful bow. 

Percival groaned at the sight. He was close, his hips seeming to move of their own volition as sweat dripped down his torso and onto the boy's pliant body.

Without thinking, Percival reached around, shocked to find that Merlin was hard and leaking. He started to pump Merlin's cock in spite of the crowd's protest.

As he felt the boy's channel clench around him, there was nothing else but the two of them in the ring, and he followed, succumbing to release.

* * *

**76.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Will  
 **Warnings:** n/a

"I can't believe you went for that," Will muses afterwards, with a quiet chuckle. He's comfortably naked in a way Merlin envies, arms crossed behind his head and trousers gaping open around his hips.

They're laying side-by-side up in the hayloft, on the cool pile of straw in the corner that's served as their makeshift bed more and more frequently these past few weeks.

"Hmm?" Merlin hums. "Went for what?" It's hard to sound cross when his cock is still twitching happily against his belly.

"My act!" Will grins, jabbing an elbow into his side. "Or do you honestly believe your seed has magical healing powers?" His smirk vanishes with one look at Merlin's puzzled features. "Shite," he says, sheepishly.

Merlin's sex-addled brain struggles to catch up. "Wait. You mean--" He trails off, eyes widening. "Oh bugger," he moans, and rolls onto his side, facing away from Will to hide a rapidly-spreading flush. "I'm such an idiot."

"I thought you knew." Will's torn between annoyance and concern. "And you were just playing along, playing innocent, y'know? I had no idea you were naive enough to actually _believe_ in sex pollen."

Merlin grits his teeth. Suddenly he's acutely aware of his nakedness, his long pasty limbs and exposed bum, and whirls on Will. "You made it sound like you were bloody well going to die if we didn't fuck, Will! Sorry I was too busy trying to shoot magical healing sperm to question whether sex pollen was real or not." He's pleased to see a flicker of guilt in Will's eyes.

"...Sorry, mate. You can't tell me you didn't like it, though, having me helpless and randy and begging for it." Will’s grin is shit-eating.. "I saw your face."

Merlin pushes to his feet with a disgusted, dismissive noise. Will makes a grab at him, but Merlin jerks away. Failing that, Will sits up on his elbows to watch as Merlin collects his clothing, enjoying a perfect view of his ass as he bends to pull up his trousers and retrieve his neckerchief. 

"I was just trying to mix things up," Will explains, as a shirtless Merlin turns to face him. He catches a glimpse of thick white cum, _his_ cum, dripping from Merlin's bum and his mouth goes dry.

"Well if I'd known you were going to use my magic as the butt of a stupid practical joke, I'd never have told you about it to begin with,” Merlin replies coldly, whilst angrily knotting the red scrap of fabric around his throat.

Will swallows, trying very hard not drop his gaze to the cum inching down Merlin’s thigh, watching his willowy fingers instead—fingers Merlin twisted up inside his hole, fingers Merlin rocked on until he was open enough for Will to take him, fill him. He can't help it; his cock throbs and he whimpers slightly, though he'd never admit to it. 

Merlin's brow furrows. "And you're getting off on what, exactly?"

" _You,_ " Will snaps, reaching inside and extracting his cock to jerk himself with quick pulls. "You're still all wet, stretched open and leaking my essence. What I wouldn't give to take you again, fill up that pretty bum of yours till my bollocks are empty. Maybe I'll make you a cork, yeah? Stop up that pretty little arsehole so you can carry me around inside all day, and at night I'll fuck it all right back out of you."

"That's _filthy,_ " Merlin complains, but his traitorous cock twitches in interest.

"And you love it," Will notices, stilling his hand. "You don't want to, but you do. There's no shame in liking my talk, just as there's no shame in liking men or having magic. So stop denying yourself... you'll be much less miserable." He pats the straw. "Come lie with me again while we have time, since I expect your mum'll be sendin' you away any day now. Down on your knees and I'll make it up to you," Will promises.

Hearing it put like that, Merlin really can't say no. He lets his trousers drop and crawls onto the straw. Will settles between his legs and nudges them apart, cupping his buttocks and spreading them. Merlin tenses at the feel of hot breath against the inside of his thighs. “What—” he begins.

Will steadies him."A little something to remember on lonely nights in Camelot." He chuckles, thrusting his tongue out and plunging it inside Merlin's leaking pucker.


	4. Group D (warnings)

* * *

**77.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Slight D/s; could be interpreted as dub-con

**Summary:** On the Island of Avalon, breeding magic-borns was the only way to survive.

* * *

**78.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

* * *

**79.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** non-con-ish. Mostly just h/c.  
 _When Arthur heard of the situation, he didn't care whether neither of them actually wanted to do it, just that Merlin would survive the wild that is his magic. And deep inside, Arthur knew that Merlin's unwillingness to hurt him would always do more damage to the younger man than Arthur ever would have by making this sacrifice. It was his time to be Merlin's support through the night._

* * *

**80.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** Incest, Bloodplay, Breathplay, Dub-con (coercion) 

* * *

**81.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/ Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None 

* * *

**82.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

Summary: Merlin likes to start the day feeling relaxed. Arthur likes to go in hard. All in a day's work.

* * *

**83.**

**Pairing:** Morgana/Gwen  
 **Warnings:** none  
Description: sacrificial sex in Silent Hill with Morgana as member of The Order.

* * *

**84.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Merlin's leg suddenly disappears(?)

* * *

**85.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

Merlin needs to access all his power to save Albion from the End. The Once and Future King is the vessel.

* * *

**86.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Gwaine; Morgana (voyeur)  
 **Warnings:** dub/con ( in my head, Merlin/Gwaine are in an established relationship, being forced to 'perform')

Morgana decides watching Gwaine fight for her amusement isn't fun enough. She thinks of something else.

* * *

**87.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** none

There are customary ways to "heal" a zombie bite wound and then there is Merlin's. And he definitely knows how he wants to get paid.

* * *

**88.**

**Pairing:** Morgause/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** Incest

* * *

**89.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None


	5. Group A (clean)

**1.**

"Fuck. You."

Each word is distinct as it's spat out at Arthur's feet, joining the rainwater puddled there.

"Well, generally, it's the other way around, but—"

Arthur had not been expecting a stunning right hook on a guy so slim.

But, then again, he thinks while he's bent over, palm on his jaw, this is _his_ mate.

He straightens, blinking the rain and sting out of his eyes, and looks at the furious man in front of him. "This isn't my doing, you know."

"It isn't."

"God, do you really not—" Arthur doesn't know where to start. "I'm in the same boat as you. Well, not exactly the same, seeing as I've always known I—" He stops, frustrated. "Okay, let's start with the basics: I'm not going to hurt you."

Merlin snorts. "Fucking right, you aren't. It already hurts. Ever since you—" He gestures vaguely. "You know."

"Yes, and I'm sorry about that, if I'd've known you'd been raised not knowing I would have been much more—" He shrugs. "Subtle."

"Lie number two."

"Okay, fair point. God, you're—"

"Watch it."

"No, I—" He exhales roughly. He can see sweat on Merlin's skin, his body responding whether Merlin likes it or not. Which is understandably a big not, and Arthur's chest hurts with it.

He takes a few steps forward, his posture calm and open. "The reason it hurts right now is because when I kissed you, something happened. Something called Imprinting."

"Bullshit. That's _Twilight_ -inspired bullshit that tween girls tell themselves at slumber p—"

Arthur turns and takes a few steps away, feeling the tear in his gut. When Merlin grunts in pain, he stops and turns.

Merlin's face – Oh, it's awful. He finally believes Arthur, that's for certain. He looks crushed, angry as fuck, and vulnerable as hell.

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" He retreads the ground and then some, getting as close to Merlin as he can, feeling the ache turn into a new kind of burn— He reaches out, and Merlin flinches but leans into it all the same. Arthur ends up cupping Merlin's neck, pulling them together until the heat– 

The rain isn't even touching them.

Merlin's voice shatters the moment. "So that's it?"

Arthur pulls back just enough to look at him. "What's it?"

"I'm just… stuck with you?"

"Hey, it's not the worst match you could've asked for." He stands straighter. "I'm very well-off, you know."

"Oh, lovely, I'm cosmically bonded to a rich prat in a polo. Do you even _like_ boys?"

"That hardly matters anymore."

"It totally matters!" Merlin throws his hands in the air momentarily. "And it's all going to prove very awkward, you know, most of the time. Not to mention my mother will never forgive you."

Arthur can't help but laugh. "Oh, Merlin." He kisses Merlin again, deeper this time, and the heat rises until hands find jean fastenings and slip into pants. "Mothers love me, for one." He concentrates, then strokes a finger just where Merlin wants him to, and drinks in Merlin's surprised gasp. "That, for two."

"How—"

"Imprinted. Like baby ducklings, only—"

"Only—" Merlin circles Arthur's cock with his fingers and twists nearly roughly. Stars explode behind Arthur's eyes.

"Yes," he breathes, quickening his own movements. "And third…" But he's cut off by his own body because _this_ —this is more than he's ever experienced, it's too much, it's like he's on overload, and when he comes with a shout, he knows that both of them have, all over their rainwashed fingers, and his skin feels tender, raw. New.

"And third?" Merlin says quietly, his voice wrecked.

"And third," Arthur says, clearing his throat. "We could walk away now. For a while. Now that we've—" He gestures between them, then spots his hand. He holds Merlin's gaze as he passes two slick fingers over his lips, then reaches to do the same over Merlin's slack mouth.

"Oh, God," Merlin breathes, a look of wonder on his face. "Arthur, I don't—"

Arthur cuts him off with a kiss, his heart thumping in his chest. "Me neither. Trust me. Me neither. But we have jobs, and, as you said—" He smiles crookedly. "Awkward."

Merlin's smile is reluctant, guarded, but there nonetheless. He hesitates a moment, then leans in to initiate a kiss himself, and Arthur feels languid heat slip through his veins. And he is, for the first time in his life, at peace.

* * *

**2.**

**The Curse**

Merlin frantically leafed through the books they had dragged from the library. There had to be a way to break this curse! Frustratedly, he tossed a book aside and reached for the next, just looking up shortly, seeing that Percival was still lying on his back on the table, being fucked by Elyan. 

He grit his teeth, knowing that the knights were doing their best to save their friend. Unfortunately they had killed the perverted witch who’d thrown the curse or else he’d force her to reverse it. 

Hearing Elyan grunt out his release, he jumped up to check on Percival again. 

“Did it help?” Elyan panted while he tucked himself back in. 

Merlin shook his head. “No change.”

Arthur was pacing the room, looking highly uncomfortable. “This was meant for me. Why did he jump in the way of the curse?”

“He’s a knight of Camelot, Sire, he’d do anything to protect his king.” Gaius shuffled into the room, shoved another book into Merlin’s arms, “Here, my boy,” and then checked on Percival. He threw Gwaine a look. “What are you waiting for? You know there’s only one cure for this, get to work!”

Gwaine’d already stroked himself into hardness and now positioned himself to shove into his friend, not minding that Gaius was still taking Percival’s vital signs. 

Arthur stepped close to Merlin. “Found anything?”

Merlin threw him an impatient look. “Not yet. And it won’t go any faster if you insist on asking every two minutes. You’d better prepare yourself, he took the curse for you, maybe that’s the way to lift it?”

Arthur’s cheeks flushed, but this wasn’t about being shy, this was about saving Percival. The witch had made it clear, he needed to be fucked good and hard or he wouldn’t survive the night. As king, he was responsible for his men, he needed to do everything he could to ensure that this curse was lifted. So he pulled his shirt over his head and tugged his breeches down far enough to take Gwaine’s place once he was finished. 

Gwaine didn’t even bother to tuck himself back in. “Will be ready for a second go if needed. Just…” He sat down nearby.

“What about you, Merlin?”

“What about me?” Merlin didn’t even look up, busy scanning the pages. “Oh, wait! Here…”

Arthur didn’t stop fucking Percival, who only gave some weak grunts while Gaius cooled his forehead with a damp cloth. “What? Tell us, Merlin.”

“Only his true love can reverse the spell.” Merlin looked up, totally lost. How were they supposed to find Percival’s true love before the night ended?

“Alright,” Elyan stepped forward, “it’s obviously not me. And not you either, Gwaine.”

Gwaine crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Maybe if I try again?”

Arthur groaned as he came inside Percival. “Looks…,” he panted, “as if I’m not the one either. Merlin!”

Swallowing hard, Merlin got up. Percival was his friend, too, so he started to shed his clothes, fully aware of all the eyes in the room turned on him. It didn’t seem right to do this to Percival when he was too far gone to object. And with everyone watching. But he needed to do his part to at least try to save him. So he closed his eyes and pretended he didn’t enjoy the hot come-slick opening that surrounded his prick. He found a steady rhythm and it didn’t take long before he came. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw Gaius’ worried look. Damn. 

Without a word, Merlin stepped back and let Leon take his place. 

While he tucked himself back in and grabbed his shirt form the floor, he watched Leon carefully positioning himself, running his big hands over Percival’s chest. He had to strain his ears to understand what Leon was whispering. 

“Come back to me, Percival. Please, don’t leave me here all by myself.” 

And then the big knight was making love to the one on the table. He wasn’t just fucking him like the others had, he rolled his hips slowly, caressing the weakened man, pressing little kisses on his sweaty skin. It took a while, but slowly Percival responded. He moved with Leon, rising to meet each thrust, groaning loudly and finally coming in unison with Leon. 

Merlin looked worriedly at Gaius, who started to smile when Percival finally opened his eyes. Cheers erupted in the room and Gwaine muttered about having to go to the market to find the right wedding present.

* * *

**3.**

Arthur immediately recognises what he’s stumbled upon. He’s heard rumours of the barbaric practice still occurring, but he hadn’t believed it could be on Camelot’s soil again. Omega Runs have been banned from this land for more than twenty years.

“Sire, scouts have spotted a dozen more men, armed with ropes and little else, sniffing their way through the forest.”

“Arrest them all. I’ll find the omega.”

\---

The omega’s clever; the entrance to the cave he has chosen is infested with blooming carrion flowers, but Arthur’s senses are keen. There is a reason he’s known as the best hunter in the kingdom.

The minute Arthur steps into the cave the previously faint scent of the omega consumes him.

Scent has been a part of Arthur’s life since he was a boy, learning what it means to be an alpha. He uses it to hunt game, to check his food for poisons, to check his knights for fear or deceit. He uses it to find interested bedmates.

Arthur’s never smelt anything like the boy huddled in a corner, trembling at the realisation he’s been found.

Unmated omegas are not permitted within Camelot’s walls. They are disruptive. And a king tricked by the allure of an omega could put the entire kingdom at risk. Mates make a king vulnerable; his father had instilled that in him early.

“You’re safe now,” Arthur says, keeping his distance. Sweat already begins to prickle the back of his neck as he fights the impulse to touch, to claim. The draw of an omega in heat is more than he’s ever prepared for. “You are free to return home.”

“Can’t,” the boy gasps. “Herbs.”

Arthur leans closer, letting the fading light from the cave entrance spill upon the boy’s face. He’s drenched with sweat, his short black hair spiking, his blue eyes bright with fever. It’s not fear that has him trembling. Arthur doesn’t need to look to know that the boy’s breaches would be sodden.

Reaching forward, Arthur touches the boy’s forehead. “The herbs,” he whispers, “did this to you?”

The boy curls himself tighter, his face flushing an even higher colour. Herbs make sense; they ensure that even if the omega escapes the Run, he’ll die from the heat fever if he doesn’t mate, taking the secret of the illegal Run with him.

Arthur kneels beside the boy. There’s little more than an arm’s length between them, though it feels like too much. “What’s your name?”

He startles, clearly not expecting even this much courtesy. “Merlin.”

“Merlin.” Arthur resists asking how old. He’s old enough to go into heat. “You understand what I have to do?”

He looks so young as he nods. “Do it.”

\---

Nose pressed to Merlin’s cleft, Arthur licks at the wetness there. It’s sweet and heady. Arthur’s dizzy with it already. Merlin’s shoving against Arthur’s mouth, making a high-pitched whimper as Arthur tentatively spears his tongue at the already loose, waiting hole.

Arthur does it again and again until his face is sloppy and Merlin’s begging turns into sobs.

How he’d ever resisted such pleasure is beyond comprehension. He feels the danger; he would give his kingdom for another taste of this. Only he knows, he _knows_ this boy who melts so sweetly under his touch would not ask such a price.

He mounts Merlin like an animal, jerking his hips and pushing in gracelessly. They are both too desperate for gentle touches. He thrusts deep, letting the heat and omega-slick surround his cock like nothing else has. There’s a feeling in his belly, a warmth shimmering inside him that can only mean one thing, but he doesn’t stop. His cock plumps at the base: a knot he knew was possible but never once experienced starts to form.

This is what his father hid from him, what the laws of Camelot fought to protect him from.

His eyes fill with the wonder of it.

He clings to Merlin as they lock together, reaching around to fist Merlin’s cock like he never wants to let go. It’s glorious when Merlin finds his release, stretched wide around Arthur’s knot.

The warmth in Arthur’s chest settles to contentedness as they fall asleep, heartbeats in sync.

\---

They wake to the sounds of Arthur’s men searching for them.

“What are you going to do with me?”

Arthur nuzzles Merlin’s shoulder and thinks of waking up like this every morning. “I guess I’ll have to keep you.”

* * *

**4.**

"Let past reflect now,  
and love prove it's vow.  
If once loved as before,  
then love you all the more,  
but if false love with only his eyes,  
the fair Merlin in this life dies.  
To make sure the king is true.  
no speaking shall you do."

The woman lowered her hand with a lopsided smile. "Not my best work, It's a little Ursula-esque but this should teach that stupid husband of yours not to insult people. Besides if it works you'll both be happier. Then again if it doesn't you'll be dead, but considering it's you two, what's a little death between lovers, right?"

Merlin struggled against the restraints. "What did you do to me?" Merlin tried to ask but no words came out. 

"You are as you were when you first met Arthur." The witch looked at her watch and clicked her tongue. "And you only have six hours to get him to make love to you." 

~~~~

The smooth muscled plane of skin felt so different beneath Arthur. Again, he had to remind himself this was Merlin. 

That afternoon he looked everywhere for his wife. Instead a young mute man, nearly a boy, had shown up wearing his wife's wedding ring and her all too precocious smile. 

Arthur let his hand slide up over a nipple the way he had done hundreds of times before and just like always, Merlin's stomach tightened, her…no his, hips rose up in response.

"It's really you." he whispered into the throat of the only person he ever loved.

At first, of course he didn't believe it. Merlin might have been wandering around saving small animals or trapped down a well. As the walking embodiment of trouble, she already accomplished both in central London, but then the boy with big ears and a mess of dark hair made his crystal blue eyes flash golden. 

Arthur pressed another kiss to Merlin's neck. This time he mouthed over the slightly tell tale raise of masculinity. He'd never been with a man like this. It never even crossed his mind to try it since Merlin had always been there.

His beautiful Merlin had been his first and only love. "Still so beautiful." He whispered along a more defined jawline. Merlin turned his face away, playful, bashful, confused. There was always something about Merlin that made Arthur need to know the rest of the story. Did, being like this make Merlin uncomfortable, or was _he_ relaxed in his new form and just worried about Arthur's reaction? 

His ears stuck out a little more without the longer hair, maybe Merlin was self conscious about them again. "I love you." Arthur nibbled at one knowing how sensitive they were to touch. He let his hips push down at the same time slipping his cock next to that of his wife's… husband's. 

Fuck pronoun's and descriptors. This was a his wife Merlin, and he was amazing. Merlin arched his back in response and forced his hard length back into Arthur. 

The fast paced moans escaping with each exhale and the taught pull of every core muscle told of how close Merlin was to climax. 

"Really _Mer_ lin? Premature ejaculation?" Arthur teased while pulling away.

Merlin smacked him in the arm with a very expressive eye roll, then tried to pull Arthur back down over him.

"Hey, you're the one who filled my head with images of witches and death. I'm doing my husbandly duty and preventing you from coming like a school boy to save your life darling." 

Merlin rolled his eyes again, before they flashed golden. Arthur's mind was filled with images of himself climaxing repeatedly all over Merlin's new body.

"Bastard" Arthur shivered, his arms shaking holding up his weight. Fuck and now he was moments from orgasm too. "You think I'm holding back because I'm about to go off?" Arthur narrowed his eyes at a now nodding smirking Merlin.

"You're right. The thought of coming all over this body and inside it…" Arthur grunted. 

Merlin never shied away from anal or any other sexual proclivity. In fact Cocobutter Wednesday's were a favorite for them both, and Arthur prayed with all of his heart that his wife restocked their favorite lubricant. 

As per usual Merlin never let him down. 

A short time later as he fucked into his wife while stroking her cock, Merlin moaned out his name and it was the most perfect thing he had ever heard.

* * *

**5.**

Among the things that Leon is good at are the following: not looking at Merlin’s throat, not looking at Merlin’s wrists, and not looking at Merlin’s tongue.

One might think that the last is quite easy, seeing as Merlin’s tongue is inside his face and not generally visible, except that Merlin is often talking, but also, more distressingly, licking his lips while eating.

In any case, Leon has developed considerable skill at not looking at these areas of Merlin’s body, or indeed, most of Merlin’s body. That way lies danger.

Oh look, there’s danger now.

“Leon? Leon, okay, keep your eyes open. Just hold on. I’m going to take care of you.”

Merlin’s eyes are absurdly large. Like nuts. Or those big quail he and Elyan caught last week. Large, round, and tasty.

“He’s not making any sense,” says Merlin.

“I told you, he drank all that pink stuff.”

“Well, why didn’t you stop him?”

“It’s not my fault if my knights want to go protecting me.”

“Shut up, Arthur, I just need to—”

Oh that’s better. Leon suddenly feels much better. The fuzzy nausea roiling in his stomach abates to a hot, pleasant tingle pooled in his groin. Something warm strokes up and down his thighs and cock, and it makes Leon sigh with relief.

“Leon, I don’t know if you can understand me, but that pink potion has made you ill. And this is all going to be very strange, but we just need to work it out of your body.”

And there’s a wash of gentle touching that Leon loses track of. For awhile, everything feels luxurious and agreeable and also a bit like pinpricks.

But then, quite unexpectedly, Leon’s hands are on Merlin’s behind. Christ. His hands fly away, but _fucking fuck fuck_ that hurts, and his hands fly back again with a resounding slap.

“Ow. See. Just. Just, keep your hands on me. It’ll help.”

Leon is going to be assigned to guard duty for goddamned _years_ for this. Arthur is going to catch him with his hands down Merlin’s trousers, and he is going to be stuck guarding that cell where they throw all the drunks. He will smell of stale mead and forever be known as Leon, Knight of the Drunks.

“Right. I’m going to put your cock in my arse now.”

“Oh my god,” someone else says.

“Well, turn around if you don’t want to watch.”

Everything is a sort of roiling, pinkish haze, but Leon becomes aware that he is not wearing any trousers at the same moment his cock is put inside something extremely hot and squeeze-y.

“Squeeze-y. That’s great, Leon. That’s the loveliest compliment my arse has ever had.” Merlin’s voice is breathy and thin, for some reason, and it takes Leon about a dozen thrusts before he realizes that it’s because he’s _fucking Merlin_.

He blinks his eyes five or six times and looks up to see Merlin’s face, open-mouthed and shiny, his eyes still alert with the professional gaze of a physician.

“Hello there,” Merlin says triumphantly when Leon manages to make eye contact. He bounces on Leon’s prick a few more times. “You seem to be doing better. Would you like a kiss?”

“Yes, please,” Leon says, raspy, and Merlin leans down and lets Leon have his fat bottom lip to suck upon while he fucks up, up, up into Merlin’s behind. The world around him grows clearer with every thrust, and Leon falters when he realizes that someone is shifting about nervously just a few steps away.

“Arthur?” Leon manages when he recognizes the expensive boots.

Arthur makes a noise like a dying cat and doesn’t turn around.

“Don’t mind him,” Merlin says with a kiss to Leon’s collarbone. “He’s busy being scandalized.”

Leon makes an immediate and valiant effort to apologize, except it comes out, “ _Nnngghhh_ ,” when he comes in painful jerks up the grip of Merlin’s arse.

“There you go,” Merlin whispers soothingly.

The blanket of trees above him come into focus, the leaves crystallizing in his vision as they shiver in the breeze. A twig breaks off to his left, and Leon very carefully does not look at the King.

Merlin’s still sitting on his cock, smiling. “Don’t worry,” Merlin says. He goes up on his knees, slowly, and Leon’s cock drops out with a slurp. “Arthur’s very grateful. After all, if you hadn’t drunk that potion, it’d have been him in your place!”

Arthur growls. Leon whimpers.

* * *

**6.**

The day the world ended, Merlin wasn’t even on Earth. _The Excalibur_ had just finished its three-year mission and was finally returning home when the comet entered Earth’s orbit, as shown on the ship’s screen.

Merlin’s entire body seemed to shut down for a moment in shock before his brain caught up with what was happening and immediately began calculating the damage. Not that there was any need; a comet hitting Earth was an ELE.

First, the atmosphere itself would burst into flames, and then the impact would cause the sun to be blocked out, causing a winter that would last for likely centuries. The lucky ones would die in the initial blast. The others had no chance of survival.

By the time it struck, Merlin couldn’t even bring himself to watch, instead burying his face into Arthur’s shoulder as the impact sent out shockwaves large enough to rock their ship even as far away as they were. They would need to start the engines again soon, to avoid the debris that would inevitably fly their way.

But for that moment, he stayed where he was, silently sobbing as he felt Arthur’s arms come up around him, holding him close.

-

The mission had been a short one, all things considered, and _The Excalibur_ was a small ship. There wasn’t anyone else on board but the two of them.

“There are probably others,” Arthur told him, once Merlin finally calmed down enough to talk about what happened. “I know Gwaine had been set to leave not long after us. Guinevere and Lancelot had a longer mission than we did. And those were only people in our garrison.”

While the thought was comforting, it didn’t change the fact that almost everyone he knew was now dead. His mother, his father, his best friend, even his neighbours...

Arthur had lost people too, but Merlin knew that Arthur was trying to stay strong for his sake.

“I wonder if they even realised it was heading straight toward them before it was too late...”

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice was firm but kind as he reached across the table to cover Merlin’s hands with your own. “Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t hate yourself for being alive.”

“This ship wasn’t designed for us to live on it past the extent of the mission. Eventually...”

“We’ll think of something, Merlin. We always do.”

-

They fucked that night, slowly, Arthur moving on top of him and pressing soft kisses against his skin, caressing him gently, as if he were something fragile that could break.

Maybe he was, Merlin thought. Humanity had all but gone extinct but he was still alive, Arthur showing him just how _alive_ he could be.

On the surface, it was simply comfort sex, but Merlin knew it was more than that, something intimate between two people who had lost everything. He lifted Arthur’s head and kissed him tenderly, trying to express how much he appreciated the gesture.

They were not alone. They had each other. There were others out there.

And maybe, one day, life would find a way.

* * *

**7.**

Without asking, Gwen slid a shot glass down the bar. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" Arthur shouted over the throb of the club music. Goddamn Sidhe DJs.

"You need to get drunk, boss. You need to dance, you need to get laid, and most importantly, you need to stop glowering and scaring away the twinks who want to order overpriced fruity drinks."

"I'll have two of those, sweetheart," said a scruffy, shirtless human at Arthur's elbow.

Gwen shot him a dubious look. "Your tab's already more than you can pay, Gwaine."

"It's on the house." Arthur said, gaze fixed on the man close by Gwaine’s side. "Hello, Merlin."

"Hello, Arthur." Merlin gave him a bright smile, lit by the glimmer of magic. Merlin was on the pull tonight, irresistible. "Thanks for the drink."

"Oh, you two know each other?" the Gwaine person said.

"I own this place," Arthur said at the same time Merlin answered, "He's my ex."

Merlin lingered after Gwaine pushed back onto the dance floor. “Sorry. I don’t really know him, but did you see what he’s packing in those trousers?”

“I’m cutting you off,” Arthur said.

Merlin’s smile turned soft. “It was good seeing you, Arthur.”

He brushed a kiss against Arthur’s cheek before turning and dancing away. Arthur deflated onto the bar with a groan. “I don’t understand why he still comes here so much.”

“I don’t understand why you both don’t just say you’re sorry.” 

Arthur fled to the dance floor.

The sweat and endorphins left him happier and a bit turned on. But then he spotted Merlin again: with the hobgoblin known for troll-magic party favors. Merlin slipped something into his mouth before Arthur could do more than mutter, “Oh, fuck, not again.”

By the time Arthur caught up with him, Merlin was grinding a massive erection against a puzzled but appreciative were-bear in leather. “Please help me,” Merlin was moaning as Arthur detached him. “I’m gonna die if I don’t come.”

"I know, baby. It's really kicking in now, isn't it?" Arthur gently steered Merlin away toward the loo. "Go on, splash some water on your face.”

He sighed with relief as Merlin went in. Then he remembered that other men were also probably in the toilets—and why. “Oh, fuck.”

When he burst into the loo, he found Merlin stark naked in a stall, front plastered against one of the walls—the one with the gloryhole, of course. A grinning bloke was just going into the adjoining stall when Arthur’s fist twisted in the back of his shirt and hauled him out.

“Sorry, closed for maintenance,” Arthur snarled and locked the door behind him. 

Merlin was gripping the top of the stall and kicking it in frustration. “Why did you stop him? He said he’d save my life.”

“Oh, I just bet he did.” Arthur reached into the stall and pulled Merlin away from the hole. “Goddammit, Merlin, you do this shit on purpose.”

“Please,” Merlin mumbled into his shoulder. His body rubbed against Arthur’s, which reacted to him as it always had. “Gotta let the magic out, or I’ll die.”

The problem was, there was a remote chance it was true. Arthur’s hands trembled a little as he held Merlin; his cock kept swelling until he gave in to the inevitable. “All right, baby. I’ll take you home and fuck you all night, if that’s what you want.”

“No,” Merlin insisted, pulling away from Arthur and feeding himself back into the gloryhole. “Here. Now you don’t even have to look at me if you don’t want to.”

Arthur had to laugh. God, how he’d missed the sheer absurdity that was Merlin. He kissed Merlin’s shoulder and then went into the next stall and knelt down. The first taste was heaven.

Sucking him through the hole was awkward; he couldn’t clutch at Merlin’s thighs or arse, or cup his balls the way he liked. But the way Merlin’s moans echoed along with the thump of his fist against the stall made Arthur harder and harder. 

Finally Merlin let out a long, relieved groan as he shot his load into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur swallowed, then hauled himself up to sit on the toilet, dazed and aroused.

He didn’t notice Merlin’s cock withdrawing until he found himself with a lapful of nakedness. “Thank you,” Merlin said and kissed him, deep and sticky. “You’re still my hero.”

Arthur shivered and pulled him closer. “You’re still my—“

He couldn’t finish the sentence. But Merlin just laughed and slid down to kneel between Arthur’s thighs. He looked up at Arthur with clear, happy eyes, pulled out Arthur’s rigid cock and looked at it with exaggerated concern.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll save you.”

* * *

**8.**

The world as they knew it had ended.

The viral infection had spread worldwide like a wildfire; travellers had brought it from one country to others until the governments had realised the situation, and one by one they had closed all the borders and declared a state of martial law. There weren’t enough healthcare workers or medicine to take care of all the sick, and since the disease was incredibly infectious, people had moved to their own little communities far away from centres of population to save themselves and their families.

All public life had stopped. Many people had seen their loved ones die of the disease only days after they’d been infected, and they were still scared that the virus lived on somewhere. That maybe it had mutated, maybe some people had it without even knowing about it themselves. Everyone avoided human contact with strangers, with people who might still carry the virus and pass it on.

Merlin had stayed by Arthur’s side the whole time.

Arthur had easily become the leader of their little community. It was he who led the missions to gather more food and other supplies they needed to survive, and everyone listened to him when it was time to make decisions. Merlin wasn’t his second in command, not even close, but he was almost always by Arthur’s side and was perfectly happy with the place he’d taken among their group.

Especially since more than one girl in the camp would’ve been interested in sleeping with their leader, but every night, without a fault, it was Merlin Arthur went home with.

Maybe it had just begun as sharing body heat during the nights and both of them being unable to fall asleep alone after all they had gone through, but now... Now it was about Arthur’s hands searching for warm skin under Merlin’s clothes and Merlin catching his lips in a bruising kiss, before they fell on the bed as a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothes. It was about them not giving a damn about protection, because it didn’t really matter when their life expectancy was so low anyway, and using whatever they could find as lube just so they could forget everything else for a moment. It was about the cries of orgasm that were a nice change for cries of pain or grief or anger.

It was feeling just a little bit less broken, because they were broken together. Fucking each other didn’t heal the wounds they had, neither did any of the emotions or closeness they shared, but it helped to deal with them just for one more day at the time. Even when days turned into weeks and weeks into months, the nights were what kept them going, made them want to survive just a bit longer.

The thing between them was based on traces of the friendship and desire that had once been, but now in light of everything else had turned just a little sour, a little toxic, a little too co-dependent. It was about sharing the sadness and the loneliness with one another, and sometimes arguing but never letting go of what they had, because the thought of facing this new world alone was too much to bear.

Merlin knew that despite all the other people living in the community, they only had each other left in the world. Wherever Arthur would go, Merlin would at least try to follow, be it a mission to gather more food or a battle for their continuous survival or death.

But then, that was just how the things were now and that was how it was always going to be from now on.

* * *

**9.**

Percy’s not really sure what to think. People don’t just suddenly go into a sex craze because of a _plant_. He’s still not even sure how they figured out it was because of a plant but he’s not in the right headspace to ask. Not when there are much more important things to focus on.

“You need me to do _what_?” He asks again

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose as Merlin gives him a sheepish smile.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Perce,” Leon says from somewhere behind him. “Go in there and fuck him before he dies!”

Percy feels his cheeks heat up and looks down at the floor, avoiding everyone’s gaze. A hand settles on his shoulder, warm and comforting, and he knows it’s Gaius before he even turns to look. Gaius pins him with a grave yet understanding gaze.

“The effects _could_ be deadly,” Gaius admits quietly - a detail they hadn't given before - and how is Percy supposed to argue against that?

He doesn’t want to know who all is watching as he walks slowly down the hall nor does he want to know _how_ they look. Even the slightest hint of mockery in their expression would be his undoing and he can’t afford that; he has to do this.

For Gwaine.

Because it’s Gwaine hiding away in the bedroom at the end of the hall. It’s Gwaine who found himself experiencing the unexpected consequences of smelling a foreign plant. _Gwaine._

This wasn’t the way their story was supposed to go, he can’t help but think as he lets a hand settle on the doorknob. This wasn’t the way they were supposed to come together.

It makes him impossibly sad to know but he holds back those thoughts and the feelings that come with it; he has to be the strong one now. He has to be strong for Gwaine.

The smell of sex hits him as soon as he opens the door, stronger than he anticipated, and he pauses in the doorway more out of surprise than anything. A moan from the bed brings him back to reality a moment later and when he looks, he feels the air leave his lungs.

The blankets have been kicked completely off and the sheets are a complete mess, bunched up around Gwaine’s naked, writhing body. He has three fingers in himself and is moving his hips in a fast, graceless motion. He’s desperate.

Percy lets the door shut behind him and though it doesn’t slam, it’s loud enough that it catches Gwaine’s attention. He twists his upper body to look and when he does, Percy feels his stomach churn.

Gwaine’s eyes are wide and glassy, almost frantic, his face flushed; he looks _drugged_. It’s not right. None of this is right.

His feelings must show on his face because Gwaine blinks and his eyes are a little bit clearer when he says, “ _Percy_.”

It eases some of the tension in Percy’s chest, enough to where he can shake his head and walk to the bed. He sheds his clothes along the way because there’s no point in playing dumb; the way Gwaine watches him avidly should be flattering, should make him smug, but it doesn’t. How can he be sure what’s real and what’s caused by the plant?

How can he know if Gwaine really wants him?

When he’s near enough, Gwaine pulls his fingers out and practically launches himself at Percy. He wraps around Percy’s body, biting at his lips, and Percy’s hands scramble to find purchase on sweat-slick skin so that Gwaine doesn’t fall.

“Fuck me,” Gwaine whines. “ _Fuck me_.”

They fall on the bed together, Gwaine moaning when Percy’s stomach rubs against his hard cock. Everything that happens next is a blur; a memory that Percy hates but doesn’t want to get rid of. Kisses and moans, slick hands on his cock and then the incredible heat of Gwaine’s body as he pushes in. He tries to keep as quiet as possible during but Gwaine is too far gone to do any such thing; he cries out, shouts, his begging getting louder and louder the closer he gets.

One time isn’t enough, it turns out. They fuck until Gwaine’s exhausted, until his body can’t take anymore, and then he falls asleep, aching but sated. Sleep won’t find Percy for hours more.

He mourns the beginning they’ll never have and prays that Gwaine won’t hate him when he wakes.

* * *

**10.**

This was all Merlin’s fault. If he hadn’t insisted on tagging along with Arthur and the Knights to track the reports of Druid activity in nearby towns, this never would have happened. Granted, they would all be dead, but at least Arthur wouldn’t have been tied up to a pole in the middle of a hayfield, in full armor, on a hot midsummer’s day. Glad though Arthur was that Merlin talked the Druids into letting the rest of the Knights go, the King himself would rather be dead at this particular moment than endure one more hour of this torture. 

“This is all your fault” Arthur stated. Merlin was tied to the same pole as the King only he, the gangly oaf, had somehow managed to get his shirt off before being so restrained. At least the idiot would be sunburned, Arthur thought. 

“What?” Merlin protested “I _saved our lives_. If I hadn’t insisted on coming along this mission, you’d be dead!”. 

“Exactly.” Arthur replied, calmly “I’d be dead and therefore _not_ dying of heat torture at this very moment!”. He felt Merlin’s wriggling, which had been a constant since the Druids had tied him up against Arthur’s pole (and it was _Arthur’s_ pole, as he’d been tied to it first), come to a halt. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin sighed “I didn’t know they’d take us _here_. These Druids, they’ve had a difficult summer. The crops haven’t been doing well, it’s been too hot and too dry.”

“Tell me about it,” Arthur grumbled. He already knew as much, having had to traipse around repeatedly in full armor in the same climate. 

“There is something we might do, though,” Merlin said. Arthur felt him start to move again, as if it were impossible for the man to stay still for _five minutes_. “It’s normally performed at Ostara and Beltane, but I think they might appreciate it if-”

“ _Merlin_ ” Arthur was quick to cut him off. He knew enough about Druids to get where this was heading “Are you talking about a fertility ritual?”

“Yes,”

Arthur sighed. He had heard about such things. 

“Just...tell me we don’t have to get Gaius for whatever it is and you have a deal,” Arthur said, feeling defeated. The heat must really be going to his head. 

“Oh, thank the gods yes! I mean no! No Gaius,” Merlin spoke quickly. He yelled out to the Druids who rushed to Merlin’s side,untying him. 

“Just relax,” Merlin said, as he kneeled on the ground in front of Arthur “Relax and look at me,” he said, long-fingered hands reaching for the laces on Arthur’s breeches. 

“Merlin, what are you-” Arthur found himself unable to finish the thought as Merlin yanked and suddenly felt his nether regions exposed to the hot summer air. It wasn’t like he’d never thought of this before. It just hadn’t been quite so...public.

“The elders will kill us if we don’t, Arthur. You have to understand-”

“Fine. Can we do something about _them_?” Arthur asked, nodding toward the gathering Druids who were looking on eagerly. If this had to be done, so be it, but a monarch ought to at least merit some privacy? 

“Oh, them,” Merlin smiled, glancing toward the Druids and back toward Arthur with coy eyes “They’re not here,” and Arthur found himself believing his manservant as he was suddenly enveloped by the tight perfection that was the other man’s mouth. Arthur closd his eyes and moaned. He thought he felt a breeze stir through the hayfield, but that might have been his imagination as Merlin’s tongue was currently doing _wicked_ things to Arthur’s dick and this _just might_ be a dream after all. 

“Tell me this is real,” Arthur found himself saying, breathing hard as Merlin worked his way from the base of his cock back to the slit, and down again. 

“Mmm” was the only response Merlin could spare him, and Arthur moaned again as he felt the corresponding vibration course through him. He had been dying of heat, and now he was dying of pleasure. It was long until he felt all his muscles go taut, hips bucking as he came in Merlin’s mouth. Arthur saw white; lightning, and before he was completely down from his release, rain was pouring down from the heavens. He looked down. 

Merlin’s smile was blinding.

* * *

**11.**

**Title:** Mine

“So,” Arthur drew the word out. “ _Mer_ lin, are you telling me I need to have sex with you to end this drought?”

Merlin was too worried to smirk.

“I need to perform the spell but you are the King of Camelot so you are the one who needs to ask the elements to restore balance.”

Arthur smirked at him. “I am really not seeing a problem here.”

Merlin bit his lip and looked at Arthur. “Because you’re the King and you are asking…I have to have sex with you.”

Arthur frowned at him. 

“As in,” Merlin said licking his lips, a delicate red sweeping over his cheeks. “You have to be on the bottom.”

“Oh,” Arthur said and then his eyes cleared. “Oh!”

“I know,” Merlin said quickly. “That you don’t do that because you’re the King and you can’t do that for anyone but-” 

Arthur cut him off with a kiss. “Yes.”

“But…” Merlin said with surprise.

“Yes,” Arthur said happily and began to strip. 

Merlin stared at him stupidly until Arthur was down to his smallclothes.

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said. “I have been told my whole life I am not allowed to experience someone being inside of me like that. But I’ve wanted it. My father is dead and I trust you not to go bragging to Gwaine about it. So, please take off your clothes so that you can fuck me.”

Merlin nodded and stripped as quickly as he could. 

Arthur smiled and collected the pot of oil they used on Merlin. He turned his back on the wizard and lifted one of his knees up onto their bed. He reached back and began swirling oil around his entrance. 

“No!” Merlin said and there was a crash behind him. Arthur looked over his shoulder to find Merlin on the floor in a tangle of his own clothes. Merlin struggled to stand up and then he was pressing into Arthur’s back. “I want to do that.”

Arthur thrust a finger into him and groaned. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Merlin said and oiled up his fingers to slide one in next to Arthur’s. “I want to open you up.” 

Arthur pulled his finger out and wiped it off on one of his towels. He leaned forward and closed his eyes to bask in the feeling of Merlin’s fingers, long and thin and sure, moving inside of him. Merlin kept returning for more oil until Arthur felt loose and wet and impatient. 

“Please,” Arthur begged.

“It’s not always easy…the first time,” Merlin said kissing along Arthur’s spine. “If this is the only time I get to do this I want to make it good.”

“If I promise to let you do it again will you get on with it?”

Merlin mouthed at the base of Arthur’s spine and pulled his fingers out. “Turn over.”

Arthur crawled up the bed missing the feel of Merlin inside of him, feeling open and wanting. Merlin followed him up but waited until Arthur was settled and facing him before he reached down for Arthur’s knee and lifted it up and over his elbow. 

Merlin took a moment to look before he caught Arthur’s eye. “Ready?”

“Hurry up, _Mer_ lin.”

Merlin pressed the head of his cock to Arthur’s entrance. Arthur arched, it was more than his fingers had been but it felt…amazing. Merlin moved into him slowly, little teasing thrusts of his hips until he was seated completely inside of Arthur. They both took a moment to breath. Then Merlin began to move, slowly, shallowly, rolling his hips into Arthur and nailing the place inside the King. Arthur’s really understood what he had been missing as his body flared in pleasure. 

Arthur reached up and cupped Merlin’s cheek. “Your eyes are changing colours; like storm clouds.”

“It’s the magic,” Merlin said and began muttering under his breath. Arthur didn’t understand the words but he could see the sparks of electricity arching between them and feel the magic feeding into his body. Arthur held on tight as Merlin’s voice rose and his hips started moving faster. Arthur fought to keep his eyes open as Merlin’s body pushed him further than he had been before. His legs tightened around Merlin’s hips. Arthur threw his head back and came with Merlin’s hand around his cock, electricity and magic pouring between them. 

He didn’t hear the crash of thunder in the sky outside as his eyes clouded over with the bright blue of electricity slamming into the ground.

* * *

**12.**

MOMENTS

There are moments in life that we never forget. Moments of terror that carve their way into our minds, that still bring a shiver coiling round our spine like a silver tongued serpent, unrepentant in its nature. Moments of overwhelming joy painted in beautiful colours within our cherished memories. Moments of sorrow, an unwanted reminder of the frailty of this life.

Then of course, there are also moments of magic. We don’t always know it, we almost never see it, yet somehow, we feel it. It can be as simple as the burning bronze shimmer of falling leaves, cascading through the air in a downward dance of autumn. Perhaps the flickering flame of a firefly catches your eye as it chases the night air.

These moments, all that had ever been, all that would come would never compare to the moment our fair sorcerer Merlin and brave prince Arthur faced now.

.

"MERLIN! It's the only way!" Morgana screamed. Camelot, consumed by a violent violet vortex only held off by Morgana's spell. People fled in terror, yet here stood three, the only hope for the world. 

Morgana shrieked falling to her knees. "I can't hold Mab off for long. The prophecy is clear; only by joining with Arthur will you receive the full extent of your power and defeat Mab."

Arthur lay a firm hand on Merlin's shoulder, the young wizard faced him, meeting calm, understanding blue eyes. 

Merlin nodded; within moments they were in a secluded room, the lock of the door echoed in Merlin's heart. He longed for Arthur for so long, but not like this...

Arthur began to disrobe, a blush coloured Merlin's cheek and he turned to face the wall, flustered. Arthur curled his arms around him, pulling him against his chest. Merlin panted as Arthur began removing his clothes.

Soon naked, Merlin felt faint; Arthur held him close pressing a kiss to his shoulder tenderly. Merlin gasped jumping.

"Merlin, shh. I want you, but I won't force you, not for any reason, we’ll find another way, if it's what you want..." Arthur crooned in his ear. 

Merlin spun, shocked. "You... want me?"

"Always have," Arthur whispered. Merlin lunged- raw passion and longing as lips parted, tongues entwining. Arthur pushed Merlin towards the bed, peppering him with kisses. "Have you ever... I mean, with a man?"

"No... with anyone..." answered Merlin, blushing furiously. 

Arthur caressed his reddened cheek, smiling as Merlin tried to hide from him. "Beautiful." 

Retrieving soothing oils, Arthur took Merlin into his arms. "If it gets too much, you tell me, we'll stop. I won't hurt you, not for a prophecy, not for Queen Mab, not even the world."

Merlin nodded. They moved together, kissing slowly, soon the passion built. Arthur moved till he was straddling his lover. He reached for the oil; Merlin froze. "It's not for you, love."

Merlin opened his mouth, but couldn’t speak. He watched as Arthur rose up; whilst holding his gaze, slowly penetrated himself, preparing himself. He moaned grinding his hips down as he twisted his fingers, bucking as he grazed his prostate. Merlin panted, watching the powerful ripple of muscles, amazed at what Arthur was doing. His cock throbbed; he twitched, fingers yearning to touch. 

Arthur placed Merlin’s hand on his aching dick. "Go ahead, touch yourself for me."

Writhing, Arthur whispered"You're so beautiful like this, fucking your fist, thinking of me, think about how it's gonna feel, Merlin, forcing your cock deep inside me, fucking me, owning me, I want you to come inside me, mark me as yours, Merlin... I'm gonna ride your cock, fuck you hard, gonna do everything with you; when this is all over, we won't leave my chambers for a week because it's gonna take a long, _long_ time for what I plan."

He impaled himself fully; they screamed in unison. It was hard, fast and dirty. Arthur rode Merlin's cock until Merlin could take no more. Merlin's nails dug into sun-kissed skin, he cried out, sobbing through his orgasm. Arthur felt it as he was coated in hot, thick ropes of come, falling forward coming hard, coating Merlin's chest.

They clung to one another riding the waves of ecstasy coursing through the blood pounding in their ears. They broke apart; Arthur looked deep into Merlin's eyes as a golden haze burning brighter than flame filled him with magic. 

Merlin finally spoke after his long silence, "Let's go show this bitch who she's dealing with. I have plans later, and so do you."

* * *

**13.**

“Couldn’t be bothered to come himself, could he?” Olaf snorted. Elyan sensed Merlin sneaking a look his way, but kept his own eyes forward. “I suppose we should take you to her, then.” 

He stood with effort. To Elyan he appeared thin, his skin loose like the weight had fallen from him too quickly. 

Merlin hefted his satchel of books, trotting after Olaf’s lead. Elyan followed.

xOx

If King Olaf was thin, the Lady Vivian was gaunt. Her hands shook where they rested in her lap. She gazed out her window, ignoring her father, the bow Elyan made her and that Merlin hurriedly copied.

“Well?” Olaf said. 

“May I?” Merlin gestured, hesitant. Olaf grunted. 

Merlin’s examination was brief and ginger, like he was afraid to touch her. She flinched under his hands as if they burned.

xOx

“What do you think?” Elyan asked Merlin later.

“Magic, and powerfully cast,” Merlin murmured, licking his finger to help turn a page in his book. “The same that ruled Arthur for a time.” 

“Gwen broke that spell,” Elyan said. 

Merlin hummed an agreement, poring over his pages.

xOx

“She’s been enthralled for far longer than Arthur was,” Merlin said, apologetic.

Olaf stalked on his dais like an agitated bear, calling for explanations, a counter charm, the culprit behind the deed. Merlin offered him cautious options, asking for patience while he researched. 

Elyan turned to Vivian where she sat in her chair. “Would you like to take a walk, milady?” He asked, soft. 

Her lip curled; she turned her face away.

xOx

“How can an affliction of the heart be treated with violence?” Elyan frowned.

Merlin lifted his shoulders. “She’s fiixated,” he said, hopeless. “Something, or someone, must shatter that fixation. As Gwen did for Arthur.” 

The logic of it unsettled Elyan. Gwen was a smith — she forged. It was against her nature to shatter.

xOx

Vivian drew her shawl tighter against the spring breeze. She used Elyan as a crutch, a solid thing to lean against but not speak to. Her eyes only warmed when they skimmed over Elyan’s crest. 

He tore it from his cape when they returned to the castle and gave it to her. She eyed him as a fox eyes a hound, but took it anyway.

xOx

“No man,” Olaf growled, “touches my daughter.” He shoved Merlin’s books and papers into his chest, making him stumble.

xOx

Vivian spoke only of Arthur. Once she realized Elyan would not try to silence or punish her, her thoughts came in a torrent, desperate, tripping off her tongue.

Elyan let her lean against him. He listened.

xOx

“If she dies...” Merlin whispered. “Olaf will bring war down upon Camelot.”

Elyan laced and unlaced his fingers. _If she dies,_ he thought, _it will have been for nothing._

xOx

She sagged against him, sobbing.

“It hurts—” she choked. “It _hurts_.” 

“I know.” He tipped up her chin. “Vivian, you must be brave. I’ll grant anything you request of me. Anything,” he promised. “But I cannot if you do not ask.” 

She grit her teeth and screamed, pounding her sharp fists against his shoulders until the strength left her. She slumped, shaking. 

Carefully, Elyan lowered them to sit upon the grass. 

“Please,” she finally breathed. “Please.” Her head lolled against his shoulder, her face bloodless. 

Elyan closed his eyes. He kissed her, gentle — helped her loop her arms around his neck. He turned up the hem of her dress so he could reach beneath, petting her legs for a long moment to help stave off her shivering. His fingers coaxed her, rubbing until she dampened for him, her sex going plump and sweet. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, freeing himself. She nodded, though her breath was shallow, fearful. “Command me, milady.” 

“ _Do_ it,” Vivian bit out, pressing her cheek to his. 

She froze as if stabbed when they met. Her breath stopped. Fear scalded him — what if this was the surest way to hurt her, to make certain she’d never recover? He cupped her face, needing to see her eyes, and their bodies shifted. Like a hammer applied to a scored piece of metal, Elyan felt something _give_. 

Vivian jolted, gasping, clinging to him while her body quaked. Wild laughter rocked her and she dug her nails into his back, chest heaving with the lightness of freedom.

* * *

**14.**

“So. What. You’re. Telling. Me,” Arthur gasps out as he continues to drive into Merlin’s arse, his balls smacking against Merlin’s with each thrust. “Is. That. _Magic_.” And Merlin can just hear the sarcasm in the word, even through their heavy panting. “Is. A. Thing. That. Exists.” Arthur stops - words and sexing - to adjust his grip on Merlin’s calves and actually pushes them out further. He’s pretty sure his legs aren’t supposed to spread that far, and he can feel the stretch that is almost too much, but then Arthur is plunging back inside of him. It’s a new angle. Merlin sees stars.

“Yesssss,” he hisses out between his teeth. It’s in response to Arthur’s sort of question, but he’s pretty sure it serves dual purposes. Because even though this whole sex thing is out of their hands at the moment, it doesn’t mean Merlin isn’t _enjoying_ it.

Arthur’s hips buck forward hard then, pushing Merlin further up the bed and making him crack his head against the giant, black headboard. He sees stars in front of his eyes, but a concussion is way better than _dying_.

Because Merlin might have been born with magic and he might have been messing around with new spells and such. And he might have come across a spell he wasn’t too sure of in a book that he probably should have avoided all together (and really, it had a skull and crossbones on the spine. Merlin _knows_ better!)

Instead, Merlin had pulled a Harry Potter and used the spell anyway, giving it a little extra kick in the pants with some Golden Eyes and directed it at Arthur. What? It said it was for lovers!

That was three days ago and since then, both Merlin and Arthur have felt like they’ve been _dying_ from the inside out. It had started with stomach cramping and then moved on to a fever. Merlin had equated the whole thing to the flu and Arthur blamed him for getting him sick as well. But that morning, when they’d gotten up, Merlin could barely stand up. His body had ached and he felt like he was literally burning up. Arthur’s skin had been red and blistering and his voice had been completely gone.

It hadn’t been pretty. Especially when Merlin had had to explain the magic _thing_ , because it was obvious now that was what had caused the problem (after Merlin had called Gaius of course. _That_ had been a fun conversation. Not.)

Merlin doesn’t know why Arthur sounds so annoyed every time he asks about the magic, though (which has been a lot.) He’s getting a lot of sex out of the deal!

Arthur rolls his hips and his cock presses hard into Merlin’s prostate. He surprises himself by shouting out a profanity and coming all over himself. He’s lost count of how many times he’s come now. It’s a lot. He’s just waiting for Arthur to finally work through all the magic inside of him and come. Gaius said that’s when the spell will finally be broken.

“We’re. Going. To. Talk. Long. And. Hard. About. This. Later. _Mer_ lin,” Arthur pants and sweat drips down his nose to land on Merlin’s chest. “Long.” Thrust. “And.” Buck. “Hard.” Roll.

Merlin can’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were enjoying this,” he breathes out.

Arthur actually growls at him and presses his lips against Merlin’s. “Fucking. Magic.”

Fucking magic indeed.

* * *

**15.**

“What, the hell is this?” Gwaine yelled out, trying not to cough on the purple dust that came out of nowhere, covering them all. Arthur and his knights had been searching for reported highwaymen in the area for three days, until they were attacked by some unknown powder on the road. 

“Nothing I would worry about, Sir Knight, unless you carry magic,” an unknown male spoke. The man was not dressed as one of the bandits they were chasing just moments before, but wore robes similar to Gaius. 

“We are knights from Camelot, no one in our party would have magic,” Arthur snapped back, trying to wipe the dust from his face. 

“And, I do not doubt you my lord, however, the Lady Morgana has other beliefs on the subject. She thinks there is one among you that has been using magic to protect you.”

Arthur opened his mouth to tell their attacker where Morgana can stick her theory, but was cut off by the most gut wrenching scream he heard outside of battle. The noise put the knight in motion, most leaping from their horses to defend from whatever made that noise, except for Gwaine, who sprinted to Merlin, calling his name, catching him before he fell from his horse.

“Well, no one _would_ guess the servant,” the man mused.

“What are you doing to my servant?” Arthur knelt beside Merlin, who looked pale despite the purple dust still covering his body. 

“It’s a simple concentrate of dried herbs and flowers used by Druids to enhance prowess during rituals involving sex magic. Of course they used far less than your servant is covered in. I feel he will be in a lot of pain Your Highness,” giving Arthur a mockery of a bow, the unknown man turned to leave.

It was a testament to how well his knights knew is will, when Leon led Percival and Elyan, to capture their assailant, Morgana will not learn anything against Arthur this night.

“Look Princess, you can kill Merlin without-“

“Gwaine, I’ll listen to your pointless intimidations later, Merlin needs our help.”

“You’re not going to kill him here?”

“Whatever Merlin’s transgressions may or may not be against me, he is my retainer, and it is my job to protect him. And he bloody well can’t defend himself from any accusations like this, can he? So grab any water off the horses, let’s see if washing this crap off him will help.”

Arthur worked as quickly as he could to strip a thrashing Merlin, where. Arthur couldn’t pinpoint any symptoms that he under stood. Merlin shock has if he were freezing, sweated has if he had a fervor, and moans sounded has if he were experiencing heighten pain and pleasure. 

“Here Arthur, I grabbed his extra neckerchief to help with the washing,” Gwaine handed the cloth to Arthur as he uncapped the first water skin. Pouring the water over Merlin’s face, Arthur wiped of the power as best he could, but the sensations where increasing Merlin’s need, to the point he was wantonly humping air.

“Arthur, this isn’t working. I’m afraid if his manhood swells anymore, he leak blood. Worry not; I know a few tricks to fight off his desire.”

“No Gwaine, I’ll do it, he’s still my responsibility.”

“And he’s _my_ friend.”

“He’s mine too, Gwaine. And, until I hear reason, from his own lips, otherwise, he will remain such.”

“Fine, I set up for you.”

“What are you doing?”

“Getting a bedroll. You’re not going to fuck Merlin in the middle of a road.”

____________________________________________

From between the trees were Gwaine stood guard, he watch Arthur repeatedly bring Merlin to climax using his hands and reassuring words. Each time Merlin would take a little longer and his eyes would become a little clearer until Gwaine heard Merlin recover the use of words.

“Sorry Arthur, I didn’t mean–“

“Hush Merlin, we’ll talk later. One more time should do it.” With a finger, Arthur applied pressure to Merlin’s entrance, “Do you mind if we can–“

“Yes! Please Arthur!”

Gwaine watched Arthur open Merlin, with slow tenderness, from his post. He never thought he’ll see the day Arthur would treat Merlin with lover’s hands, especially under the suspicion of witchcraft. They moved in their primitive dance, until Merlin came, gripping Arthur, like he was riding out a storm.

____________________________________________

Farther in the forest, Leon insured Morgana would never find out Merlin’s secret, as he pulled his sword out of their attackers heart.

* * *

**16.**

Merlin pushes him against the loo’s stall, tearing Arthur’s clothes with little care, nails scraping his flesh as Merlin rips his shirt off and exposes his chest, his breathing erratic. Arthur knows what he wants, rather, what his need makes him want. He can feel Merlin’s magic pounding in the air, suspended above them, surrounding them; Arthur can feel Merlin’s desperation as he fights Arthur’s jeans off him, down his thighs until he can get his hands on Arthur’s cock and take him into his mouth as he sharply falls down on his knees with a thud. 

It’s been happening more often lately, and Merlin’s need has been growing. Arthur doesn’t know what to do, how to fix this, _him_ , how to free Merlin of this curse that has been thrown upon him; he just can’t believe that Merlin has to do this to _survive_. 

It scared Arthur at first, the ferocity in which Merlin came to him that first time, how Merlin used him, babbling about how much he needed it, needed Arthur, and how Arthur couldn’t understand what had happened to him. He still remembers sometimes how he would fight Merlin and it would be completely useless to struggle against Merlin’s magic, until Arthur convinced himself that it was alright, and that he was finally getting the chance to get what he had been waiting for years; Merlin, even if that wasn’t the way he had been expecting. 

Arthur has learnt now, he enjoys it as if it were Merlin doing it of his own free will, and he does, too, because Arthur knows Merlin wants him when he’s not rapt under the curse, he knows, but at those times when he’s got Merlin pumping his dick in his hand and sucking the tip inside his mouth so as not to miss out the smallest drop of precome, it’s hard to think about it. 

Feeling his chest heave, Arthur grasps his shirt in his hand, lifting it up slightly so he can look at Merlin properly, can see his face, his closed eyes and stunningly sharp cheekbones, and Arthur’s own dick as it disappears between Merlin’s obscene lips with each bob of his head.

“Merlin,” he breathes when Merlin thumbs Arthur’s balls and he feels a jolt of pleasure running all the way up through his spine.

Merlin doesn’t listen, he’s too wrapped up in getting Arthur off, too needy, just barely focusing on anything else that’s not eating Arthur up. He’s hard too, Arthur can see the hard line of his erection through his jeans where he’s kneeling on the floor, but both hands and his mouth are only touching Arthur, fingertips dancing over Arthur’s skin, and wet mouth licking and suckling with great intent, drawing a mind-blowing orgasm out of Arthur in minutes.

His head thuds against the door, and he grasps Merlin’s hair in his hands a bit too tight as he comes, but feeling Merlin’s lips sealed around the head of his cock and then his tongue lapping at even the last drop just make Arthur’s knees go stupidly weak and his brain completely frozen.

Merlin rests his forehead against Arthur’s thigh then, and he sighs against Arthur’s skin whilst Arthur runs his hands through Merlin’s hair as soothingly as he can manage, stroking the nape of his neck with his fingers.

When Merlin stands up he’s got that ashamed look on his eyes that Arthur cannot stand, so he grabs Merlin’s face in both hands and kisses him, sweet but rough, and when they break apart from the kiss and Merlin sighs against Arthur’s lips again murmuring an apology, Arthur speaks, says, “It’s alright, we’ll find a way to get you out of this soon, I swear we will.”

Merlin looks at him with glassy eyes but he doesn’t say anything

Arthur is true to his word.

* * *

**17.**

“Wait. You need me to shag you? Or else you will die?”

Merlin nodded. He was, for what must have been the first time ever, avoiding Arthur’s eyes. And blushing.

“That’s…” Arthur racked his brain for something to say, and came up with, “odd.”

That earned him a hot-eyed glare that said, loud and clear, _You don’t say_. Merlin had a whole set of sarcastic expressions to meet with Arthur’s stupider comments.

Arthur cleared his throat.

He couldn’t be blamed. Ever since he met Merlin, his entire life – his quiet, sensible life that he did not miss one bit, not that he would ever admit it out loud – took a ninety degree turn off the path of sanity and was now headed, full-speed, into the realm of the odd and the unexpected and the downright bizarre.

And Merlin was right in the middle of it, chewing on his lower lip and messing up his hair. He finally met Arthur’s gaze and shrugged, offering a shy, tiny smile that wasn’t like him at all.

He grabbed the tablet and stylus that Arthur presented him with when he got tired of Merlin’s _other_ attempts at communication, which mostly involved wild gestures and exasperated glares when Arthur didn’t understand (on account of being too busy ducking because Merlin’s gesturing was very… expansive), and began to write.

***

Merlin did not like kissing. That was something Arthur already knew. 

What Merlin _did_ like was to run, and dance, and annoy Arthur. He made Arthur take him places. He made him sit through theatre plays, and various festivities and celebrations. He took to playing harp like a proverbial fish to water – heh – but _would not stop,_ and Arthur was the only one who seemed to mind.

The kissing was because Merlin had sold his tongue to the Sea-witch; the rest of it, because he got a brand new pair of legs in return.

Well. Legs _and_ other body parts. The Sea-witch, Arthur thought appreciatively, had really outdone herself.

That wasn’t the first time they ended up in Arthur’s bed, because for all his irritating qualities, Merlin was bloody gorgeous and Arthur wasn’t blind. But for the first time, they were both completely naked. And also for the first time, Merlin seemed content to lie back and let Arthur take the lead.

Which was all nice and well, except Arthur had no idea what to do.

He kissed his way down Merlin’s body – simple – and nuzzled his thigh. Merlin had pale, slightly sunburnt skin that was way warmer to the touch than skin had any right to be. It was easy to get lost in the sensation, especially because Merlin shivered and trembled and sighed when Arthur did something right.

Arthur ran his mouth over Merlin’s cock and delighted when he felt it jump and harden. It was silky and smelt of _Merlin_ in a way he was still trying to wrap his head around. For now, he kissed it and licked, experimentally, and took it fully in his mouth to which Merlin gave a loud, startled moan. His hands tangled in Arthur’s hair, and he seemed unsure whether he wanted to push him further down, or hold him in place and arch his body up.

Arthur kept Merlin’s cock in his mouth, enjoying the sensation, and trailed his hand downwards, rubbing Merlin’s balls – another yelp; he had never heard Merlin be so vocal – and down between his legs, searching for the spot where he could press into his body. 

He had brought oil for that purpose and used it now to slick his fingers. Merlin’s cock popped out of his mouth and he smiled, seeing Merlin sprawled boneless and flushing and gorgeous, his eyes stuck on Arthur’s face as if he had, personally, hung the moon.

Merlin winced when Arthur’s finger breached him but it was a passing sensation. Arthur worked his way in, watching Merlin get lost in pleasure, his mouth slightly open and his eyes screwed shut. He wriggled down on Arthur’s fingers and whined when Arthur removed them, to make way for his cock.

After that it was a mess of heat and pressure and overpowering sense of _rightness_. He held them both through their orgasm and later, when Merlin smiled at him fondly and wrapped himself around Arthur’s body like he belonged there.

And, well. Arthur never gave much thought to his immortal soul, but if he really had enough of it to share with people –with _Merlin_ \- he was only happy to help.

* * *

**18.**

The outskirts of Zone A reek like fucking rotten meat. Used to be trade running through the area; it’s a dumping ground now, bags and boxes and whole car loads of shit piled in the streets.

Arthur bounds over an abandoned vending stall, trying not to breathe through his nose, and for once, he’s glad for the cold. He can’t imagine this place in the full swing of summer, doesn’t know how this Merlin bloke stands it, stewing in it all day. Probably goes back to whatever hell hole he calls home stinking like -

“Stop.”

Arthur freezes.

The bite of a muzzle presses frigid above his collar; he doesn’t make another move except to swallow.

“You Gwaine’s mate?”

*~*~*~*

Merlin’s head’s too big for his neck. It’s probably the beanie in all fairness, thick and bulging over his hair. His clothes hang off him, stained-up, bulky at the pockets. He’s got fat lips.

If he wasn’t born into gates and walls and quarantine, there’s no way he’s old enough to remember much of Before, but shit does the kid have a fucking stash.

“All right,” he says, pistol at his side, thumb on the hammer, and he stands back from the popped boot of a rusted Toyota. “Take whatever. Ten credits each for the mags, twenty for the pot, twenty for the booze.”

“I’ve already paid ten to get here.”

Merlin lifts an eyebrow, unmoved. “That was to ensure I’d show up.” He leans against the taillight, gestures at the stuff with his gun. “Hurry up,” he says, which makes Arthur want to flip open a mag and read an article. He doesn’t, just stares for a longer moment than necessary and moves to make his selection, standing out here in the open.

The kid’s got everything. Certainly more than Arthur’s been acquainted with for a while. It’s even arranged in order of filth. Pretty blondes and tits in the front, jizzed-on pussies in the back. Arthur takes four of them, shoves one in the middle though he knows Merlin’s watching like a hawk.

“What kind of weed is this?” he asks, fingering one of the small plastic bags. He lifts one to eye-level, scrutinizes the dust.

“It’ll get you high.”

Arthur looks at him. “Would never have guessed.”

He drops the weed on top of the mags, gives the inventory another once-over, then turns to face Merlin fully. “That’s it then,” he says, and Merlin takes the stuff out of his hands, shuts the boot.

He starts to lay it out, presumably to add up the cost, and Arthur hurriedly goes for his own pocket, the ration credits shoved down deep. When he looks up again, Merlin’s deliberately paused over the porno framed dead centre, leveling Arthur with a wry grin.

“Let me fuck you and this one’s free,” he says, and it’s amazing how quickly that image floods behind Arthur’s eyes.

He looks away, puts on a disgruntled frown. “You want the fucking credits or not?” he says, to which Merlin gives a delighted snort, arranges all of Arthur’s shit with the dick-sucking twinks right on top.

“That’ll be sixty then,” he says, leaning close, smiling.

Arthur snatches it all, drops the credits on top of the car, turns to make his leave, and that’s when the coppers show up.

*~*~*~*

Merlin’s not as cocky jammed into a gutted filing cabinet someone tossed out of a nearby office building, distant shouts and gunfire bouncing off the metal, still too close for comfort.

He trembles through the first twenty minutes, mashed tight into Arthur’s arm, pale as a ghost. Looks even younger this way

“We can’t leave,” Arthur says, quiet as he can. “Not until -”

“I fucking know, man, alright?”

And once it’s been an hour, the trembling may as well never have stopped.

Merlin won’t stop moving, restless against Arthur’s side, jostling everywhere, breathing high and tight.

“Would you quit?” Arthur spits out, shifts them both, and comes into contact with exactly what’s got Merlin worked up.

Merlin gasps, presses forward before jumping away - as much as he can in here.

Arthur flushes hot, swallows. “It’s fine,” he says, quiet. “We’ve been in here a while. It’s just the heat getting to you.”

“Shut up,” Merlin mutters, angry, low and embarrassed.

“I’ll take care of it for you,” Arthur offers after a beat, his pulse quick.

“I was taking the piss when I said the magazine’d be free.”

“Mag doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Arthur says, and puts his hand over the bulge in Merlin’s trousers, pressing firmly.

Merlin lets out a quiet involuntary moan and Arthur rubs at him, faces close, makes him come that way.

* * *

**19.**

Arthur is slumped against the wall of their half-destroyed shelter. His lieutenant jacket lies on the ground beside him. Dirty and bleeding from small scratches on his arms and face, he’s staring straight ahead, eyes empty of emotion.

Without Arthur, Merlin would be lying dead on that battlefield along with the rest of their platoon. His lifeless body would be drenched in ash and mud, his soul free to... do whatever it is souls do when they are freed from their bodies.

If Merlin had been sleeping in his tent, like a good soldier – like Gwaine, Leon, Percy, Will – he would have been killed either by the bomb itself, or by the violent fires following it.

Without Merlin, Arthur would be dead, too. Arthur would have run into the chaos to try and help, would have fought until his dying breath, if it hadn’t been for Merlin. Therein lies the difference between them: Arthur is noble and fights not for himself – he fights for the cause and for his men. 

Merlin only fights to survive.

The only two left of a 1,000 man battalion, they have survived. The only two left to keep fighting a war that can no longer be won. It’s too late. The promised Asian reinforcements didn't arrive on time. Cardiff, who fought so valiantly against the threat and became the last-standing city in the entire United Kingdom, is lost.

They’re lost too, and Merlin knows it. They have no chance of getting out of the country and into an allied nation without being caught. Today, they have lost their entire world, and they are lost in it.

Within hours, they will be apprehended by enemy forces and brought before a for-show court martial... and then they’ll be executed. Merlin’s strangely calm in face of his impending death; he’s done his best in this farce of a war. It’s time to stop fighting.

Merlin moves closer to his platoon leader. He crouches down in front of him, puts his hands on Arthur’s knees, shakes them gently to wake him from the nightmare that he undoubtedly is reliving over and over in his head.

“Arthur,” he says softly, leaning into Arthur’s space.

There’s no reaction at first, but then there’s a shaky breath escaping Arthur’s chapped lips.

“Merlin,” he whispers, grabbing the front of Merlin's army shirt, pulling him even closer. “Merlin, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“We’ll wait for death to claim us, Arthur.”

“If we hadn’t snuck off--”

“We would have died with our squad. The general outcome would have been the same. This way, we have a little more time.”

For a couple of seconds, Arthur closes his eyes and lets out another shaky breath. When he opens his eyes again, they’re shiny with tears. It’s disconcerting, watching Arthur fall apart. They’ve been close, felt each other’s skin, even been inside each other... but nothing like this. This is too intimate. At a loss for what to do or say, Merlin presses his lips to Arthur’s. They’re salty and taste of mud and smoke. Desperately, Arthur clings to him, kissing him back, biting and sucking on Merlin’s lower lip like it’s all that matters.

Maybe it is.

Merlin grabs Arthur’s hair, gently pulls him away and tells him to pull down his trousers and pants. Taking the lube still in his pocket from earlier and dribbling a generous amount on Arthur’s cock, Merlin then takes him in hand and strokes him. Even though it’s not really enough friction, Arthur hardens quickly and he drags Merlin closer and kisses him again and again. After a few moments, Merlin lets go of his grip in favour of dropping his own trousers and pants and straddling Arthur’s hips. Relaxed from earlier, it’s easy to slide onto the hard cock. Merlin smiles at the beautiful sound Arthur makes deep in his throat before gasping out a short “Merlin”.

The grip on Merlin’s hips tighten when he sets a rhythm, and their harsh panting fills the small, dirty space. When Arthur’s hips snap up to meet Merlin’s downward motion, it’s not long before he comes. Merlin works him through it as he strokes himself to completion, too.

With a last kiss, Merlin tries to put every single one of his feelings into words. He’s not completely sure he managed the feat, but when they separate, Arthur’s smile is soft and his eyes no longer empty.

That's when the soldiers burst in.

* * *

**20.**

Mornings were the in-between time. Where every moment seemed to meld memories with a cold reality that Merlin could not bare to face.

Most mornings there would be a ghostly touch which would linger along his skin. A memory of something that had gone. Something long gone.

A haunting memory of someone holding him and pressing into him during the morning hours. There were days when Merlin would feel names tumble from his lips and other times confusion warred within him as the images of past lovers escaped his feeble mind.

Names and faces often remained just out of his reach these days. As if his mind was full of holes. The harder Merlin would try to remember the harder it was to piece everything together.

At times those ghostly touches would seem too real. Those times when he could feel his muscles quiver in anticipation and his cock harden from the echoed caresses of past lovers.

The haunting touches disappeared by the time Merlin awoke enough to remember there was no one with him. No warm body to rest against.

Some days Gwen worried about him. He could tell by the way she watched him. So silent. Everyone was silent these days. No one talked.

The mornings he woke up and could see Arthur on top of him, writhing in ecstasy as he rode Merlin’s cock, were the best mornings. The red haze of the moment. Everything slowed down when Arthur was there.

A thin layer of sweat coated him as he worked his hips faster and faster, trying to find that spot which would make Arthur groan and clutch at him. It was a frantic race to finish. No slow love making but the rough friction of bodies.

On his back, barely holding back his pleasure, he drank in the sight of Arthur like a starved man. How his cheeks flushed, his blonde hair was a messy nest from the sweat and his thighs quivered from the exertion. It was always the nearest to a heaven Merlin had ever been.

In the moment that hung out of time, when he looked into Arthur’s eyes before coming, a second which lasted years.

By the time his breathing had returned, Arthur was no where to be seen. He never stayed these days. Merlin found it highly annoying and planned to talk to the prat about it one of these days.

The worst mornings were when clarity came with the morning sun. The days he awoke and knew the world had long ago ended and still he remained immortal and alone. That no one was worried about his mental health and no one could hold him because everyone had died so many years ago. There were no phantom lovers, no friends and no Arthur, just Merlin waiting on the precipice for a time that never came.

Those days he watched the red sun and wished the planet would finally lay waste to his skeletal figure and that he could finally find some release.

* * *

**21.**

Arthur needed to fuck or he was going to _die_. That was all there was to it. His balls would rupture or his head would explode while he fumbled to get his dick out . He wanted to die with sword in hand, but definitely not like this. Arthur could happily _strangle_ his manservant if he didn’t already have so many other plans for the pain in his ass. 

That mostly included a very specific pain in Merlin’s ass. 

“Merlin!” 

Arthur slammed his door open, his normal swagger reduced to a pained limp. Merlin noticed his condition. He didn’t notice gravy and wine stains all over Arthur’s favorite tunic, but his beady eyes didn’t miss a single detail now. His smile was stupidly innocent, and if the prince and Merlin was neither of those things. God, he was going to fuck the little dolt _so hard_. 

“Sire. I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.” 

Arthur made a sound like the bark of an indignant hound. He never stopped gaining ground on Merlin. “Do you realize how long I’ve been gone?” 

Merlin shrugged, maintaining his air of ignorance. “Hasn’t it been three days?” 

Arthur grabbed him by the back of his neck and pinned him down with steely eyes. “Five days, Merlin. _Five_ days with your little farewell present.” 

Merlin’s grin was so wide that Arthur didn’t know if he wanted to kiss it off or lick it off or just shove Merlin’s face into his groin. “I thought you’d like it.” 

“Like it? That’s not the problem! Get me out of these breeches.” 

Merlin hesitated. He actually fucking hesitated like he would even _consider_ disobeying. Arthur’s grip tightened on Merlin’s neck in silent warning, and the other man’s fingers soon made short work of the laces. Arthur’s cock sprung right out in happy greeting, his head swollen and purple, the shaft arching away from the ring of magic slowly rotating around his groin. The ring of magic he could do nothing against. The ring of magic that continued during a _really important battle._

“Let it be known, Merlin, that I am going to kill you.” 

“You can’t kill me.” 

“Give me one good reason.” 

“You’ll never be free of it then.” 

Arthur growled and flipped Merlin around, bending him over the table, sending Merlin’s lunch smashing to the floor. The audacity of this boy, eating in the prince’s food in the prince’s chambers off the prince’s own plates while Arthur _suffered_. Well, said prince would just have to teach the little pauper a lesson in manners, Arthur thought, a little grimly. He pushed Merlin’s pants down to his ankles, effectively hobbling him, and gripped both hips, pulling his tight little ass down onto his cock. 

Merlin’s magic surged to meet the wizard, slicking Arthur’s flesh, preparing him for his entry. He still took his time though, pushing the limits of the very last of his self-control. Five days. When he agreed to a so-called “farewell gift” he had no idea that he was going to submit to the most extreme torture of his life. He wasn’t without Merlin’s touch for one second, but satisfaction was impossible to find. Sometimes he felt Merlin’s fingers, other times his breath, or the wiggle of his tongue. But it went even deeper than that. To a place that made it hard to think, let alone fight. He could stroke himself for hours if he wanted--and he very much had wanted to do that--but never to relief. 

Relief. He wasn’t even sure such a thing could exist. Not after what Merlin put him through. 

Once he was fully sheathed, that sense of relief was even more elusive. Merlin’s magic was nice, but there was nothing like the solid reality of welcoming, pulsing body. He wiggled and he twitched and his heart raced and no sorcery could ever replicate the sensation of being surrounded by Merlin. Of pumping into Merlin and fucking him open and raw. 

His thrusts were hard at first, because he truly did intend to punish Merlin, but Merlin whined and pushed back onto his dick, and things became a lot more erratic after that. He covered Merlin’s neck in kisses, left bruises everywhere he touched. The rougher he was, the more Merlin whimpered, urging Arthur on, until the final shuddering thrust that filled Merlin’s ass and sent the magic surging into Merlin’s trembling body.

"You're welcome." 

"Merlin. Shut up."

* * *

**22.**

Leon tapped his wrist unit, dead air hissing in his ear-set. Communications down too. His eyes darted sharply around the stacks of the Royal Archives – subterranean, both exits guarded by armed terrorists. Their only hope was to stall the leader, keep him talking and hope Percival’s unit responded to the missed check-in.

Movement caught Leon’s eye. The terrified librarian crouched behind the periodical desk, peeking over the scanner. Leon shook his head minutely, and the man sank back into concealment. Leon consciously averted his eyes. The Prince’s safety was Priority One, but he hoped to come through this with zero casualties.

Alined had an arm about the Prince’s throat, stroking Arthur’s hair and speaking soft threats into his ear. The Prince was terrified, close to tears – younger than his 18 years. It wasn’t until he was dragged toward the Prince that Leon suddenly understood his demand. His heart bottomed out – there was no way. Arthur was just a kid. He TRUSTED Leon. But Alined’s people were stripping Leon’s uniform, slamming Arthur face-down over a table and yanking down his trousers. “Do you want your precious prince to live?” Alined was smiling softly. “He must be ruined in the eyes of the Five Kingdoms. Olaf’s marriage alliance must be prevented – would you prefer I do it myself?” He licked Arthur’s cheek. “Or I could just kill him.” He tossed a packet of lube to Leon. “You have thirteen minutes before your backup comes through that door. Make it good.” He signalled the video to start rolling.

Leon’s hand shook as he stroked Arthur’s back, gentling him. “I’m sorry, my Prince. So sorry…” Did his fondness for Arthur make this easier, or much, much worse?

Arthur whispered back, encouraging and reassuring even through his tears. “It’s alright, Leon, it’s okay. I’m not afraid, if it’s you. You’re family.” The Prince ground against him, his buttocks pressing against Leon’s flaccid cock. “Just… take your time. Make it good – the pervert’s distraction will give the back-up team time to get in place.”

Leon assented reluctantly, caressing Arthur’s thighs, bringing a finger up to tease his entrance. Arthur whimpered and pushed against him. Leon bit open the packet, surreptitiously assessing the room. The terrorists watched avidly. His fingers breached Arthur, pushing dollops of lubricant inside. Arthur moaned, sinking back on them, and rifles began to lower.

He took his time, driving his fingers deep and curling them, his other hand cradling Arthur’s balls and thumbing along his perineum. He placed gentle kisses onto Arthur’s shoulders and back, murmuring apologies into Arthur’s neck. His charge was responsive, moans achingly convincing, body seemingly greedy for Leon’s touch. It shouldn’t have been like this. He hated himself for his reaction, but when Alined urged him on, he found his own cock erect and eager.

Leon positioned himself against Arthur’s entrance, unable to bring himself to push in. Arthur made the decision for them, pressing back in a single motion, engulfing his cock to the root. The rolling of the Prince’s hips brought forth an instinctive response - he gasped, and let go, sinking into his Prince again and again, soft cries punctuating Arthur’s moans. As the terrorists gathered closer, he brought his hand around Arthur’s cock, skillfully jerking it in sharp pulls until the Prince’s hips stuttered against him, his release coating Leon’s hand. 

Had Leon’s feelings been more circumspect, he might have lasted longer, but he couldn’t fight the desire stirring within him. It peaked, and he pulled the Prince tight to his chest, hips pressing hard.

Leon recalled several things happening simultaneously. The backup team burst through the ceiling panels on ropes. The terrorists raised weapons, gunfire shattering the silence. Leon rolled the Prince sideways and under the desk, a stray bullet grazing his arm in a burst of pain. Merlin jumped from behind the desk, sorcery Leon pretended to know nothing about freezing the enemy until they could be disarmed. But the thing Leon remembered most about that instant was his orgasm cresting, his come filling his Prince in waves of pleasure lasting seconds, minutes, eternity, the spell suspending them in time.

Afterwards, when he was out of the hospital, Merlin wrapped his arms around Leon and kissed him on the cheek. “We both know I ruined Arthur for marriage long before you touched him. But thank you for saving my boyfriend’s life, Leon. You took such care. And…” he whispered, “It was the hottest thing I’ve EVER seen. Should you ever want to join us… ”

* * *

**23.**

"Can you save him? Everyone tells me you're the best."

Merlin glanced over his shoulder at Arthur as he hovered in the doorway, nodded, then turned to place his hand on Uther's forehead.

With the drapes drawn and the fire lit, the Lord Mayor's room was warm and stuffy, heavy with the scent of medicinal herbs and sour with the smell of sickness. He was not well-loved and most of London believed he deserved to be taken by the plague. He did, however, have a son who could not yet bear to lose him. 

"Air the room. He'll live."

+

He couldn't save them all, but not for want of trying. Gwen's father was the first he cured, and though he lost three nights of sleep and weakened his magic for days after, he ensured that Gwen and Elyan would be safe. They were the closest thing to family he had in London and he would lose the whole city before them. 

(He fears perhaps that he will.)

Merlin saved Arthur a dozen times over--did the preventative spells once for each past life he remembered them sharing. 

Though he doesn't need the protection, he wore the costume of the plague doctor and quickly earned himself a reputation as the only one who outlived his patients.

+

(He will outlive them all.)

+

"Emerson."

Merlin looked up at the sound of his chosen name. The tiny apothecary he ran hadn't had much business before the plague, had a boom during its height, and was empty again now that the plague had taken most of the city. 

Arthur, he thought, the name catching in his heart. "Mr. Pennridge," he said instead. 

Arthur strode across the shop to give Merlin a searching look. "The news from the continent--Amsterdam destroyed, Paris in danger... London is--London isn't--"

"No, it's not." Merlin's fingers twitched to touch Arthur's face, to check if the spells held steady. 

Arthur caught Merlin's hand in his own before Merlin act. "You saved my father and sister, hovering over their beds like the shadow of a great, dark bird. I cannot repay you--"

"You have," Merlin said and his heart felt as if it would pound through his chest. _You repay me every day you live._

"No, that's not--" Arthur shook his head and held Merlin's hand painfully tight. "My sister dreamed that a great fire devoured London. You know she's right. You've always known, Merlin," he whispered. 

"I cannot lose you again." Merlin raised Arthur's hand to kiss his palm. Arthur remembered him and didn't matter how much or how well, he remembered. 

His body remembered Merlin, too, and he shivered with the brush of Merlin's nose against his ear. He's always liked that, the way Merlin would tickle him and nose into the hair around his ear, kiss down the side of his neck and tease him until he was so hard he was fit to burst. 

The world was dying around them and all Merlin could think of in that moment was Arthur. Arthur, the young prince of Camelot, who both was and wasn't this young man who was the son of the Lord Mayor London. Arthur, whose prick was hot and heavy against Merlin's hand, and who breathed harshly against Merlin's face as he fumbled Merlin's breeches open. Who touched Merlin with such a rough familiarity that Merlin feared he'd come too soon with the hot rush of desperation.

Arthur relented, though, and let Merlin take both their pricks into his hand. He stroked them both, teasing Arthur's cockhead until there was enough slickness to slide his prick against Arthur's. 

"I'd fuck you here if I could wait that long to see you come," Merlin said, pressing closer at the shuddering that passed through Arthur's body. "And I've already waited too many lifetimes for that."

When he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of sage and frankincense, and felt Arthur's smouth close over his, Merlin could remember the first time he made Arthur come for him. He opened them to let go of the memory and to watch Arthur again, to feel him tense and shudder and come with a sound that brought Merlin over the edge, too. 

\+ 

Two days later, they ride out of the city into the country, London ablaze behind them.

* * *

**24.**

He wakes up and he’s burning, he’s—

And Arthur is there, Arthur is the only cool and solid thing in the world, Arthur with his knit brow and his rough hands, and he’s—he’s leaving, promising to fetch help, but it’s only a fever, Merlin can tell him how to treat a fever, there are herbs …

“It isn’t a fever.”

Merlin doesn’t care about that, he’s burning, it doesn’t matter if it’s the sun or illness or if he’s on a pyre, as long as Arthur stays, and he reaches for him with clumsy hands. “Stay, you must stay, don’t leave me.”

And Arthur stays. There’s something resigned in his expression, something wounded, but he doesn’t bat Merlin’s hands away, and he gives him cool water to drink.

*

“You don’t even know what you need,” says Arthur helplessly. He’s too far to reach, and Merlin squirms on his makeshift pallet. He’s uncoordinated, his magic flaring under his skin but untouchable. Maybe he’s dying, but he doesn’t know what did it, he doesn’t know …

“I need you.”

Arthur looks away.

The heat is everywhere now, crawling inside him. Maybe he’ll burn to dust and blow away.

*

“I thought maybe you’d be able to heal yourself, that you …” It’s dark. Arthur started a fire, but Merlin doesn’t know why. The world is burning, and Arthur isn’t making sense, nothing makes sense but the fever and the chasm inside him, and he doesn’t know what he needs, but Arthur has it, he must have it, Arthur is the only anchor he has.

“Please.” Arthur hasn’t touched him in hours. Years.

The world shifts, and Arthur’s face is over his again. Merlin wraps his hands in Arthur’s shirt so he can’t go. “Listen to me. You drank from a cursed spring, and it’s made you need …” Arthur’s face twists. “If I don’t fuck you, you’ll die. Do you understand me?”

That makes the heat _tighten_ , makes Merlin whine like an animal, but he nods, because oh, he can feel it now, he knows what that ache is. “Please.” It’s the only word he has in him.

“Do you want me to do it? I will.”

Arthur looks as though he expects Merlin to choose to die, but Merlin has wanted this for centuries. He’s wanted it since the world began. And he must say so, because Arthur’s expression shutters before he nods.

*

Arthur undresses him and rolls him over, naked on his knees and elbows, his legs spread. Now that Arthur has decided, his hands never leave Merlin’s skin for long, leaving a path of blessed cool.

He must have checked Merlin’s bag, because he’s found some sort of slick, and soon enough he’s pressing a finger at Merlin’s entrance, spreading it around until the muscle gives and lets him in. Merlin groans high, pushing for more pressure, more everything.

Arthur is steady. He doesn’t fuss, now that he’s decided, he just opens Merlin with one finger, a second, a third, moving and twisting until Merlin feels like iron on a forge, molten and molded into what Arthur needs.

“Are you ready?” Arthur asks, and Merlin can only hope that his whine suffices as an answer.

*

It might hurt, if Merlin weren’t beyond hurt. Arthur isn’t gentle with him, but Merlin doesn’t want his gentleness. The moment Arthur starts fucking him, it’s all Merlin ever wants in the world. He’s still burning, but now he sees a way clear to the flames going out, and it’s Arthur, everything is Arthur, firm hands on his hips, body aligned with his own, wrecked voice in his ear, gasping out “Merlin, I’m sorry, you’re so good—”

Merlin screams when he comes, he’s in flames, he’s—

*

There’s cool water on his face, and Merlin wakes up to Arthur watching him again. His whole body smarts and stings, but his head is clear. “Thank you.” He’s unexpectedly hoarse.

Arthur shakes his head and pulls away, and Merlin so badly wants the excuse to ask for his touch again, but he doesn’t have it anymore. “There aren’t any thanks needed.” His back is to Merlin when he speaks again. “I would have done it even if you’d said you would rather die. I needed—” He stops, and when he speaks again it’s hard and clipped. “Get dressed. We ride for Camelot as soon as we can.”

Merlin has never felt so cold in his life.

* * *

**25.**

“Remember last month when you said the only way you would have sex with me is if the world was ending? Well, turn on the news and get some condoms.”

Morgana looks at her cell phone – a number she doesn’t recognize. “Who is this?”

“It’s Gwaine.”

“How did you get this number?” Morgana makes a mental note to acquire a new one.

“Snuck it off Arthur’s phone after practice. But seriously, turns out the prophecy is real and I’d like to take you up on your offer.”

Morgana hangs up.

*

Everyone in town knows the prophecy. It’s taught to children when they are young, like tales of magic and wonder. Although the religion from whence it came is no longer common, there exists a small faction of believers still holding onto the centuries old vision.

Seemingly innocuous events are being connected to the prophecy and news reporters have decided there’s only a fortnight before the end.

Her father has always called it nonsense and Morgana has never really believed, but now she’s starting to worry that she’ll actually die a virgin.

*

“I should apologize for last night. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to ask.”

Morgana shuts her locker and finds Gwaine leaning casually against the locker to her right. She stares at him for a moment before leaving for class.

“Is that a ‘no’ then?”

She continues to ignore him.

“Alright, you think about it!”

*  
A few days pass and the people around town start to get panicked. What if the prophecy is true?

*

After Morgana sees another special report on the news showing believers praying for the souls of the world to pass safely tonight, she decides to find Gwaine at school.

*

Morgana’s father is out of town on business, so they agree to meet at her house that night. Gwaine says not to worry about staying late; he doesn’t have a curfew. His mother is either very dense or the most trusting person Morgana has ever heard of.

After school she works on homework to keep her mind off the major life event about to take place – two major life events if the world really does end. She hardly eats any dinner, alone in the house with just her nerves for company. When the time gets closer she goes upstairs to shower and find a suitable outfit – her favorite dark green cotton dress, comfortable and soft.

Gwaine shows up at exactly the agreed upon time and the sound of the doorbell makes Morgana jump. They make awkward small talk as they progress through the house up to Morgana’s room.

“If you’d like to wash up, my bathroom is through there.”

Gwaine gives her a reassuring as he leaves the room.

*

Morgana is adjusting the lights when Gwaine returns.

“You look amazing.”

The sound of his voice startles her. She gives him a shaky smile. “Sorry, just nervous I guess.”

He puts a hand on her cheek and she smiles, so he kisses her gently. He moves his hand down to her neck, the other resting on her hip, and deepens the kiss, pressing her against the wall. He kisses down her neck, pausing at the juncture of her shoulder. She bites her lip to keep from whimpering.

He kneels at her feet and Morgana’s breath hitches. She nods her permission and he trails his fingertips up her legs, pushes her dress up her thighs. Gwaine rubs his thumb across her underwear and she whimpers, lets out a breathy “yeah.” He pulls her underwear down and she lifts her feet out of them. 

Gwaine stares at her body, starts to rub his thumb against her. Her palms are flat against the wall, fingers scratching at the paper. He moves in to put his mouth against her, tentative. This kiss is just as gentle as the one on her mouth. He lifts her leg over his shoulder and Morgana tips her head back, mouth open on a gasp. The taste of her a deluge on his tongue.

*

Morgana wakes to the sun shining through her sheer curtains same as ever. She rolls onto her side and sees Gwaine lying there – arms crossed behind his head, stupid grin plastered on his face. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

* * *

**26.**

"You know, I always thought you'd come back _before_ things went to absolute shit."

"I didn't know I would be coming back at all."

"I know." Another boom reverberated through the air, sounding a lot closer than the last. Merlin looked at Arthur meaningfully. "But your timing still sucks."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Whatever, just fucking _hurry up_." He waved impatiently in the general vacinity of Merlin's crotch.

"So impatient," Merlin huffed.

"Merlin, the world is about to end. The last thing _anyone_ has right now is _patience_."

"You've actually got a point this time," Merlin admitted, finally getting his fly undone. Arthur wasted no time in getting Merlin's cock out, not even bothering to pull Merlin's pants down much past his hips.

"Fuck," Merlin gasped, hips pitching forward of their own accord, his body reflexively searching out the warmth of Arthur's, pressed so close to his own.

Arthur made no move to restrain him, but simply tightened the ring of his fingers and let Merlin fuck into his fist. He leaned into Merlin's space, pressing them hip to hip, nuzzling into the curve of Merlin's neck, nipping lightly at his flushed skin. The angle was terrible for him and his wrist was starting to ache, but Merlin was clutching at him, muttering nonsense and encouragement both into his ear, and fuck, some aches and pains were the very least of their worries.

As if in answer to that thought, another explosion went off and this time, their whole building shook, the floor shifting under their feet. Merlin could feel the vibrations of the blast through the wall pressed hard and unforgiving against his back, could feel them resonate in his very bones. He thought that maybe they should relocate, but that thought was as fleeting as their estimated chance of survival, so he didn't bother voicing it.

Arthur was apparently of like mind, because he simply took the interruption as an excuse to slide to his knees, landing hard and gracelessly among the rubble at Merlin's feet. Just as eagerly as he had taken Merlin's cock into his hand, Arthur took the head into his mouth, already beginning to suck. Merlin shuddered at the sudden influx of sensation, hands scrabbling at the wall, searching for purchase and finding nothing but peeling paint under his fingertips. 

It took Merlin a moment to realize that Arthur's rhythm had faltered a bit, just a warm hum around him now, but by the time he could truly focus and look down at Arthur to check, one of Arthur's hands was already wrapped firmly around his own cock under his jeans, jerking himself off; his other hand Arthur wrapped around the base of Merlin's dick, guiding Merlin deeper into his mouth.

Once again, Arthur did nothing to restrain him, but Merlin was still holding back, still trying to stay composed. Arthur was just about to pull off for a moment to tell Merlin to _let go_ , when a third explosion rocked their building, sending smoke and debris in through the long-blown-out window. It was a testament to how accustomed they'd become to this world that Arthur's tempo barely faltered, that Merlin used the sudden shock of adrenaline to reach for Arthur, seeking him out by touch as the dust settled heavily around them.

Merlin's fingers tangled in hair that was gritty with dust, traced lines on skin dusted with ash; and he fucked into Arthur's mouth which was warm and welcoming like nothing in Merlin's life had been for _decades_.

He came as the dust cleared, was able to open his eyes and see Arthur's still closed as Arthur rode out the last waves of his own orgasm. He rose to his feet when he was finished, pinned Merlin bodily against the crumbling wall behind them, and Merlin held him while they waited. 

It was silent.


	6. Group B (clean)

**27.**

It's a thing they have. Merlin prefers the blue crayons. They taste of something like chocolate. Arthur likes red. Gwen likes yellow. When they don't eat crayons, they fuck. Sometimes they read or play bridge or bingo, and Merlin gets that stabby ache in the side of his chest when the two of them put their heads together and

sometimes he forgets they're there. Then it's only crayons and the grey skies and the flower on the window sill that someone must have brought but he doesn't remember. It's an orchid, he knows that. But when he looks out at the street, who knows what place it is, what city, what country even. He thinks they have left one and gone to another but

Crayons. Happiness. Colours.

They kiss on the terrace. Arthur's lips and Gwen's hand on his crotch and his own on Arthur's. Tongues. They kiss until people pull them apart, and one moment to the next the clarity, memory, actual things that actually happened and that he remembers, and then they're gone again and he doesn't know much at all.

He has magic, he thinks. He holds out his hand at the sippy cup of the water, at Arthur's legs that don't work and Gwen's hip, and says things, but they aren't really words and they don't seem to work.

"You all right today, sir?" one of the people asks, as he's still reaching for Arthur's cock that's flopped out onto his thigh, wrinkled, and he tries to bend down but a hand on his shoulder stops him and presses a crayon into his hand instead. It doesn't taste of much. It doesn't taste of cock for sure. Arthur and Gwen don't talk anymore. They ceases existing a while ago.

He gets a hand around himself at night, and he gets glimpses of things then, horses and carriages and Arthur a handsome king. He tells someone the next day, not Arthur, not Gwen, and they tell him they're fine stories, those. Fine stories. 

Merlin holds hands with Gwen sometimes, as they eat, under the table, thumb rubbing over thumb and knuckles, having someone there who knows. And it's love and it's the time they shared in Paris when they'd been young, in Berlin, in Prague. The war and things before and after, making life work, hands on bodies, both Arthur and he fucking Gwen on the small cot that promptly broke and

they push Gwen out of the room to the other room with the big windows and the crayons and it's gone.

He'd remember if they could have it again. He'd get more than glimpses if he got his mouth on Arthur's cock or his face into Gwen's crotch. They'd be twenty again and dancing together, all three of them, they'd be older and stand as king and queen and advisor, they'd be people.

But they hand him crayons instead, and he likes the blue ones, and Arthur likes the red ones, and Gwen the yellow ones, and if he remembered, if they let him, he could draw them pictures and tell them who they were and still are, he'd paint them like living legends, the giants whose shoulders this world exists on. He can take himself in hand and squeeze and rub at his cock, try and remember their shapes and how they felt, how easy they fit together. How hard they fucked. 

He tries magic sometimes, and they try fucking sometimes.

But he forgets now. Easily. He knows the flower but doesn't know where he is. He knows who they are but he forgets what they feel like. He likes the blue crayons. They taste of something like chocolate. Maybe. Maybe they just taste of crayon.

* * *

**28.**

“Merlin!” 

Merlin poked his head around the corner. Arthur was grabbing their emergency bag. 

“Already?” Merlin asked, suddenly feeling tired. He was tired of running, of never being able to set roots down for longer than a week. 

“I don't know for sure, but it looked like one of Cendred's men. We can't take that risk.”

“Ok,” Merlin sighed, filling his pockets with money, his fake ID. He picked up the small model of a dragon and handed it to Arthur. Arthur smiled softly and put it gently in the bag, wrapping it in a t-shirt. 

The moment was broken from the unmistakable sound of a van coming down the street. Merlin and Arthur looked at each other and headed towards the back door. They walked through the alley behind the houses and emerged down the street. 

They turned the corner as Cenred's men broke down their door. They looked at each other, and ran.

~~

“America allows magic,” Arthur said. They were in an abandoned building – they had managed to find some cardboard boxes to sit on; everything else had been stripped of everything useful years ago. 

Someone had painted the words 'In war, truth is the first casualty' on one wall. Merlin wondered if the culprit had been caught. Punished. Merlin sighed as he realised how cynical war had made him. He shook off the memories. 

“The borders are still shut,” Merlin said automatically. 

“We might be able to get through. There's got to be ships. The war razed them to the ground, they have to be importing something.” 

Merlin hummed non-commitally and whispered the words to conjure a fire. Arthur jumped, and glared. 

“You shouldn't,” he said. 

“The sensors won't pick up something this small.” Merlin coaxed it higher, holding his hands up to warm them. Arthur grumbled but moved closer. 

“We may as well try,” Arthur said. Merlin smiled, he knew Arthur wouldn't give up that easily. 

“Get to Portsmouth. Hope that we can – what – bribe a guard?”

“It's worth a try,” Arthur insisted. Merlin looked at Arthur. He was at his most handsome like this; fire in his eyes, determined to do the right thing, and Merlin's chest ached. He had expected Arthur to bail on him before now. He was a Mundane, and he had no reason to stay on the run. He could integrate into the population, could tell Cenred he had been enchanted. Instead he had chosen to stay by Merlin's side, had put most of their contingency plans in place. 

Merlin had only told Arthur part of what he had been forced to do in the war. He hated to think what Arthur would do if he knew the full story. In some ways the change to nuclear weaponry had been a godsend for Merlin and other magic users.

“I love you,” Merlin said. Arthur blinked. 

“I love you too,” he replied. Merlin moved closer and pulled Arthur into a kiss. 

Arthur slipped a hand up Merlin's shirt, and Merlin shuddered. Merlin knew Arthur could count Merlin's ribs, but his thoughts scattered when Arthur thumbed at Merlin's nipples.

Their breath condensed in the cool air between them as they panted, pulling at buttons and zips. Arthur pushed Merlin to the floor, straddling him. Merlin grinned up at Arthur, groping at Arthur's arse. 

Arthur wrapped his hand around their erections, knowing they couldn't afford too much foreplay in this situation. Merlin closed his eyes and focused on the shocking coolness of Arthur's fingers around him, pulling his orgasm closer to the surface. 

They smothered their moans in each others mouths, not wanting to bring any attention to themselves. 

~~

“Portsmouth?” Merlin asked. “That's what – a week's travel?”

“Give or take,” Arthur said, as if he hadn't got their route already planned. “You want to try then?”

“Got nowhere else to go,” Merlin replied. 

Arthur's grin was blinding.

* * *

**29.**

The battered Landcruiser Merlin, Morgana and Gwen left in this morning heaves itself over the last ridge in the rutted track to the camp, and Arthur, on guard duty, can't let himself breathe a sigh of relief in front of Lancelot or Morgause, but internally something untwists. When they pull up and pile out of the vehicle, Arthur has to keep holding himself back. This is the test, after all. This is the password, the thing that the infected can't fake. 

Merlin's eyes are sparkling, the little fucking pyromaniac. Arthur's guts unwind a little bit further. Then Merlin grabs him by the back of the neck and drags him in for a hungry kiss, thank-god-we-lived, thank-god-you're-here, and Arthur knows that everything's good. Not that he gets a chance to say anything, because Merlin won't let go, just starts walking backwards, fingers of one hand tangled in Arthur's too-long hair, the other hand already fumbling for Arthur's fly. 

Years ago this would have been taboo, people would have frowned. Now the second shift on guard duty is coming up and Gwaine high-fives Arthur as he passes, Morgana already has Morgause pressed up against a wall, too high on surviving to be bothered about their audience, and Gwen has dragged Lance off the same way Merlin's dragging Arthur - and everyone they pass is happy, relieved, _pleased_ to see their patrol home safe and getting frisky. Because frisky means _human_. 

Merlin gets Arthur back to their barely-structurally-sound hut and shoves him through the door. The room inside is so tiny that Arthur falls back on the mattress immediately, tripped up two steps backwards. He sprawls back on his elbows and Merlin's on him immediately, straddling, grinding, stripping his own shirt off. 

There's a nick in his temple, smudge of brown-black blood snaking down across his cheek, another over his collarbone. His knuckles are muddy. His eyes are so dilated they're black, only the faintest ring of electric blue like chain lightning at the edges, and Arthur's so hard he might faint from bloodloss of his own. 

'Should have been there,' Merlin growls, ripping Arthur's shirt open and lifting up to do the same to his pants, wrestling with them like they're the enemy and right now Arthur agrees with him, hooking his fingers into the back of Merlin's jeans and trying to drag them off or make them disappear out of sheer willpower. 'It was fucking sweet. Textbook. Fuck, I love C4. Whole warren gone. Dropped three floors worth of reinforced concrete on them. Ugh. Jesus, what's - c'mon, Arthur, I need your cock _right now_ -' and Arthur gets Merlin's jeans down far enough to appreciate the crisis-level lack of underwear this apocalypse has brought them to. 

Apocalypse also means a lack of lube, a lack of condoms, so Arthur yanks Merlin around and pulls him down. He's loose because they fucked this morning, like they always do, in case they never get to again, and he tastes of harsh soap and sweat when Arthur licks at him, puts his fingers up and starts to push-pull him open, eat him out. 

Arthur loves this, loves the closeness of it, being this intimate, and he loses himself in it until Merlin groans and sinks down, his plush, bitten-bruised mouth closing around Arthur's cock. He doesn't suck to get Arthur off, just licks and mouths and drools until Arthur can feel wetness dripping onto his balls, and then Arthur nudges, one last long, lingering, longing lick, and pushes him away. 

'Love you,' Arthur tells him, huskily. He never used to say that. Never would have. Never even let Merlin touch him in public, except then the dead woke and everyone had fight and the only way anyone got through it was to latch onto the people they loved and never let them go. Arthur's lost a lot of people. He's fucked if he'll lose Merlin for lack of showing him how loved, how fucking adored and worshipped and wanted he is. So now he says it every day.

'Love you too,' Merlin says breathlessly, sinking onto Arthur's cock. 'Now fuck me like you mean it.'

Merlin rides him like they're in a race, and Arthur snaps his hips and watches Merlin writhe and lean back to get a better angle, hands on ankles and cock jutting out red and untouched and when Merlin comes Arthur licks it off his own lips and Merlin clenches and Arthur comes and it's all sweat and dirt and love, always love.

* * *

**30.**

They knew the asteroid was coming. Not much in advance, but enough to build the _Avalon_ , load it with the planet's best and brightest, and slingshot it into space toward the nearest habitable planet.

They broke the living quarters up into smaller communities, to foster friendship and bonding. "Fucking," Gwaine says, as they all lounge about the common room drinking Elena's contraband home-brewed wine. "That's what they mean. They want us to start making moon eyes and fucking each other's brains out. Can't repopulate the stars without babies, right?"

He's sure there are people on the _Avalon_ who are fine with that idea, but it all seems a bit clinical and uncomfortable to Gwaine. Still, there's Elena's wine, and good company, and the brilliant shine of the stars through the common room window. All in all, he figures the apocalypse could be a hell of a lot worse.

~

Gwaine slides in beside Freya and offers her an apple, crisp and pink-skinned. She barely glances at it. "No thanks. Not hungry."

He keeps his smile on, keeps his hand out. "Eat it later, then."

"The generated apples get soft if you let them sit," she says impatiently. "Thank you, but—"

"It's not generated." He takes her hand and puts the apple in it, lets her feel the weight and the slick texture of the skin that the generator just can't quite get right, no matter how Elyan tinkers with it.

She stares at it, and then at him. "How?"

"It's my personal item."

"You brought an _apple tree_ —"

"It's a hybrid. Miniaturized, but still grows full-size fruit. My own design," he adds proudly when she continues to gape.

She closes her fingers around the apple. It takes her a bit longer to close her mouth. "I'm not going to fuck you just because I'm supposed to feel some obligation to pop out kids for the good of mankind."

Gwaine's smile falls off his face. "Whoa. It's an apple, not a commitment. I thought you might like it."

She remains dubious, but when Gwaine reaches to take it back, she keeps it and bites into it decisively.

~

He meant what he said. Still, he can't say he's not pleased when another month of flirting and a bit of Elena's wine suddenly has her wrapped around him like an octopus as he carries her back to his berth.

"Wait." She pushes his hands off even as she sucks a hickey onto his neck. He drops onto the edge of his berth so she's straddling him, free to leave whenever she wants. "I'm not fucking you, dammit."

"Okay," he says, and she rears back and blinks at him like it's the last thing she expected.

~

She's free with her kisses, but freezes whenever his hands trail past her waist. "Frey," he whispers one night when she keeps pulling them away from her hips, but pins him and shoves her tongue down his throat every time he tries to put distance between them. "If you don't want a baby, all you have to do is say so."

She freezes. Her face goes soft and vulnerable, and her eyes shine with tears. "I don't want a baby," she whispers like it's some terrible secret. "I can't—"

He silences her with a kiss, swallows the startled noise she makes against his mouth. "I'd make a terrible father, anyway," he says, and when she gives a wet laugh, he swallows that, too. "Do you want me?"

" _Yes._ Christ. But—"

He knows. There aren't any contraceptives on the _Avalon_. "It's okay," he whispers and rolls her onto her back. "It's okay," he soothes when he presses his mouth to her sex, when she grabs his hair and pulls him in hard against her.

Later, he wraps her in his arms as he moves three fingers inside her, whispering against her ear about how beautiful she is, how much he wants to make her feel good. And finally, the pinched worry eases out of her expression and pure, simple pleasure floods over her face. 

Later, he thinks, when the frantic need has died, he'll bring her apples in bed and suck the juice off her lips and show her all the ways they can take and give pleasure, without ever risking a child. Later. Right now, he just wants to hold her close and kiss her through her orgasm.

It may be the end of the world, but it feels like the start of something new.

* * *

**31.**

Her brother’s death had been the beginning, though Gwen hadn’t realized it. Other knights fell, one by one, and she still didn’t want to believe Morgana’s curse, whispered to her as they parted for the last time. _“I will be back for what’s mine. And your death.”_

Then everything grew more dire. Arthur died.

People began to sicken, young and old, rich and poor. Merlin disappeared to find a cure and never returned. The plague rampaged through all of England, leaving a mere handful of people alive. 

The fight to retain her rightful place on Camelot’s throne continued until the day her people realized she was all they had. A tentative peace settled over her tiny kingdom, but Gwen knew in her heart that the respite was brief, that Morgana had somehow seen to it that every person who walked the earth would soon perish. 

Gwen sat in front of her mirror, not really seeing her reflection. The door opened and she startled. “Merlin?” escaped her lips and died when she turned to face the intruder.

It was a servant, a young woman, a mere slip of a girl really, who Gwen had not seen before. She held a bucket and a scrub brush in her hands. “N-no, m’lady. You’re Highness. Sorry,” she said, shuffling back, her long black hair falling around her face. 

A pang sliced through Gwen; she’d been this girl once. “It’s all right. I could use company beyond my own reflection.” She held out her hand. “Come so I can see you. What is your name?”

The girl set her pail and scrub brush down and came closer, her face still hidden. “Your Highness, I dare not speak my name for fear you will send me away.” 

The girl raised her face just enough to look at Gwen. A gasp, quickly stifled, escaped her. The girl was absolutely beautiful. Eyes as blue as cornflowers, her pale skin flawless but for the faint flush on her cheeks. The girl bit her lip, and Gwen’s eyes focused unbidden on the simple, endearing gesture. An unexpected heat passed through her and she realized, startled by the intensity of it and the rich ache between her legs, that she wanted to bed this girl. 

Gwen rose. “I won’t send you away. I want you to stay.” 

“Are you lonely?”

“Yes. I am.” 

Gwen smiled at the sudden dawning in the girl’s eyes. Near bewitched by her beauty, Gwen eased the girl’s dress from her body and led her to the bed. She lay her on the silken bedding and it took much too long for Gwen to be free of her cursed bindings so she could lay, skin to skin, along the girl’s length.

“What is your name?” she prodded.

“Not yet.”

She covered the girl’s tender mouth, excitement tingling through her as the girl responded to each kiss and thrust of her tongue. As if of its own accord her hand slid down the flat, soft plane of the girl’s stomach and between her legs. Gwen knew she’d found what she’d sought when the girl flinched and moaned in pleasure, twisting from side to side but not away from Gwen, her hands seeking Gwen too, to return the pleasures Gwen gave her. 

Never had Gwen felt such delicious control combined with such pleasure as they took turns, kissing and stroking and exploring each other’s bodies. She was invaded, and yet felt cherished in a way no man, even Arthur, had ever made her feel. It was as if the girl was taking her apart and then reconstructing her with hand, with mouth, with her gaze. Every time the girl glanced at Gwen, an easy, playful smile on her lips, Gwen’s heart lurched; she’d missed this, this carefree taking and giving, this sweet release. 

She wished it would never end but as the girl knelt over Gwen, pinning her at the wrists, her dark hair brushing across Gwen’s breasts, the end came most unexpectedly when the folds of Gwen’s lust-filled gaze parted to reveal the truth. But even then, as she panted and ached and wanted more, she wanted to deny what she saw.

“You’re name,” Gwen gasped. “What is it?” But as she took her last breath, she knew.

“Morgana.”

* * *

There is a place somewhere in England called Camelot, once a beautiful, mighty kingdom that now stands empty, save for one sole survivor, Queen Morgana. She finally had what she’d always wanted.

Or did she?

* * *

**32.**

“Seriously?” Arthur looks up at the sky with an expression that’s somehow torn between disdain, amusement, and disbelief. “I get called out of Avalon for _this_?” 

Merlin tries to keep a straight face, he really does, but between his relief at seeing Arthur again and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, he feels light with giddiness. “Are you really complaining?”

Arthur swears as he wades through the flood waters. “So I can sleep through World War II,” he says, making his way to the high point on the hill, “but the sharknado comes and apparently it’s time to break out the big guns.”

“The big guns?” The giggles he’d been trying to hold in erupt in a high-pitched stream. “You’ve been sleeping for nearly a hundred years.”

Arthur turns, his face so serious that Merlin’s laughter dies in a sudden onslaught of worry. “What?”

“Do you suppose not getting laid in this lifetime means I’m technically a virgin?”

Merlin just blinks. “Really?” He gestures around them wildly. “A good portion of Los Angeles is underwater, there are _literally sharks in the sky_ , and people are throwing bombs into tornadoes. You’re choosing _now_ to worry about whether not having a dick up your arse in the past century makes you a virgin?” 

Arthur’s smirk is blinding. “Honestly, Merlin. It’s going to be embarrassing enough if I die trying to save the world from a sharknado. I’d never be able to show my face again if I die a _virgin_ to boot.”

Merlin doesn’t know why he’s surprised, frankly. He spares a brief moment to send some choice words to Freya and whoever else kept his prat for a century only to let him out for this and then waves his hand, procuring a bottle of lube from thin air. “Come on, then,” he says, grinning. “We haven’t got all day.”

Arthur takes the lube gleefully and lays them down on the wet grass, mouthing at Merlin’s neck. “Any Pacific requests?”

It takes a moment for the pun to set in (to be fair, Arthur’s lips on his neck and fingers rubbing at his hole would distract anyone) but when it does, Merlin’s whole body shakes with laughter. “Really? A veritable _sea_ of shark related puns and you go with that?”

“Not going to rise to the bait?”

God, but he’s missed this idiot. Merlin rolls his eyes, the giddiness in his chest near painful, and pulls him in for a frantic kiss. “I’m shore we could do this all day,” Merlin says when they break away, panting and beaming like loons, “but we do have a slight situation to attend to.”

“Do you mean the sharks in the sky or this?” Arthur says, cupping Merlin’s half-hard cock.

Merlin arches his back, revelling in the sensation. God, it’s really been far too long. “Whale,” he says, unable to resist, “you were the one that insisted on sex before saving the world, so if you’re quite done with the puns –” He cuts himself off with a satisfied gasp as a slick finger breaches him.

He tries to keep things light as Arthur stretches him, focusing on the ridiculous present and cheesy puns and the wonderful feeling of Arthur’s fingers up his bum instead of death and Avalon and so much waiting. Arthur either senses this or is just as blessedly oblivious as ever, for instead of murmuring ‘ _I’ve missed you_ ’s and ‘ _I hate being away so long_ ’s, he’s keeping a running commentary of increasingly silliness, even as he lines himself up and slides into Merlin with a groan.

“If you can still focus on words enough to make stupid puns,” Merlin says between moans and gasps, squirming under Arthur’s body pressing his into the wet ground and the splay of palms on his hips and the feeling of being wonderfully filled with Arthur, “then you’re definitely too rusty.”

Arthur retaliates by biting at Merlin’s collarbone, leaving a mark that Merlin can already tell will bruise, and fucking him at an unrelenting pace. He comes after only a dozen or so thrusts and it only takes a few more pumps on Merlin’s neglected cock before he follows.

They separate, sticky, sweaty, and sated, and grin at one another. “Satisfied?” Merlin asks when he can breathe again, wiping the come from his stomach as he slides his trousers back on with a grimace.

“Come on,” Arthur says. “Let’s go turn the tide on these sharks.”

* * *

**33.**

_”You’re watching the British Emergency Broadcasting System. Do not be alarmed by the smell. It’s seventeen thousand New British Hours since The Event, and time for The Quiz Broadcast.”_

“Hello, remain indoors and welcome.” Arthur Pendragon, the dashing host of The Quiz Broadcast, jogged showily onto the mostly brown set. He grinned his show-grin – forced, not quite reaching his eyes, but mostly hiding the fear of Them.

Merlin could sympathise. Though everyone was scared of Them, he and Arthur were two of the only people he knew who had actually seen Them up close. It had been a good thing Arthur had his pistol on him, and both had since heeded their own show’s warnings to remain indoors, not wanting to risk it again.

“Please join me in welcoming our three surviving contestants: Merlin, Gwen and Mordred.” The canned applause lasted a few seconds longer than necessary as they attempted to smile in the direction of the cameras, and cut off abruptly.

Merlin had been on the show since The Event. At first it had been in hopes of winning some extra food – especially as each emergency food ration grew smaller – but as time went on he found he couldn’t bear to leave Arthur on his own. By this point the only things that would be able to drag him away would be Them or a second Event. Gwen had been on the show for a while but was not doing so well – her mental health had seriously deteriorated in the previous few sessions of voltage calming. Mordred was new.

“Will there be food?” Merlin asked. He was growing desperate. “I ate my left sleeve.”

Arthur let out his false show-laugh. “Yes, of course! Only if you win though!”

At this, Mordred raised his head and started to let out a low, rattling gurgle. His eyes glowed blood-red and he eyed the other contestants hungrily. Within moments a bullet hurtled out of the gloom and directly into his temple, killing him instantly.

Arthur, to his credit, didn’t even flinch – by now it would take very little to dent his on-air persona. Merlin, however, had to try very hard to swallow back the vomit that had made itself known in his mouth, and Gwen started crying hysterically, unable to tear her eyes away. Two men in uniform appeared on the set and grabbed one of her arms each, dragging her towards a wooden door that Merlin had never been through.

“Well, it looks like that might be all we have time for this week, folks”, Arthur grinned, “so we’ll see you next week! Don’t forget to stay calm, remain indoors, and follow the regulations!”

As soon as the blinking red lights on the cameras stopped, Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand and dragged him away. This was their only escape, their only way of getting through this.

Sometimes it failed; sometimes they spent hours biting and scratching, pushing and pulling and thrusting, dicks hard and arseholes sore and full of fingers and still – still, the images remained. The death, the desolation, the absolute fucking wreckage.

But maybe this time, Merlin thought, as he thrust roughly inside Arthur with minimal preparation, maybe this time would be enough. Maybe holding Arthur’s hands behind his back, rendering him incapable of movement, would be enough to distract him from the grin he had to hold in the face of utter tragedy when he was hosting. Maybe the clench of Arthur’s arse cheeks around his cock would be enough to make Merlin forget the devastating loss of everyone he held dear, the numbing fear that he was next.

Maybe this time they’d be able to lose themselves in one another enough to forget The Event.

Maybe.

* * *

**34.**

“How did this even happen, Gauis?” 

Gauis’ sigh was weary and slightly guilty. “I sent him out to pick some rare herbs, Sire. I didn’t know that they would affect him like this.” Merlin moaned and gasped as though in pain, the sheets on the bed rustling as he twisted and thrashed. “The translation was hazy, but Geoffrey was able to read it. There is no cure but to draw it out of his system. If it’s not done soon, he will die.”

Arthur drew in a sharp breath. 

“I’m sorry, Sire,” Gauis said over the sounds of Merlin’s moans. “There’s nothing that I can do for him. The only solution is --”

“Yes,” Arthur interrupted. His mouth tightened in concern as Merlin’s noises grew louder and more desperate. “You’re sure this is the only way?”

Gauis just nodded and looked miserably into the prince’s bedchamber, where Merlin writhed and twisted on the bed, one hand fluttering over his body as the other jerked frantically at his cock.

Arthur rubbed a hand across his face and stepped into the bedchamber, where Merlin sprawled, naked and wanting, upon his bed. Merlin’s cries and moans had continued unabated, his face twisted in agonized pleasure as his hips bucked and his hand flew over his straining erection. Arthur’s breath caught when he realized that Merlin’s other hand had traveled down past his balls, and he had three fingers buried deep in his body. He made a decision.

“Leave us,” he commanded, reaching for the fastenings to his armor.

“Sire?” 

“Please, Gauis,” Arthur said gently. “I have to save him.”

Gauis nodded and drew a vial from his robe pocket. Setting it down on the table with a click, he retreated from the room, locking the door behind him. Picking it up, Arthur continued toward the bed, disrobing as he went, and settled next to Merlin’s hip.

Merlin’s eyes glinted in the fading light from the window, and he rolled into Arthur, rubbing wantonly against him. “Arthur,” he moaned. “Feel...so good...”

“Merl -- Umph!” Using strength Arthur didn’t know he had, Merlin grabbed Arthur’s shoulders and pulled him down beside him, rolling them until Merlin was straddling the prince’s hips. Merlin moaned in relief as he ground down.

“Merlin,” Arthur gasped. Reaching up, he drew Merlin’s head down and crushed their lips together. Merlin moaned at the contact and rolled his hips against Arthur’s harding cock. For a few moments, Arthur was content to continue as they were, kissing and rutting against each other; but he knew this wouldn’t be enough.

Reaching for the vial of oil on the bed, he coated his fingers and dipped them down into Merlin’s body, moaning as Merlin cried out and rocked his hips hardest against them. Prepping him was short work. Merlin was obviously been working himself earlier.

Lining his cock up against Merlin’s hole, Arthur pushed in, drinking in the whimpering moans that fell from Merlin’s mouth. His hips stuttered as he sank in, and Arthur groaned as he was enveloped in wet heat. Finally bottoming out, he paused and looked down.

Merlin gazed back with bright blue eyes blown wide in bliss. He wrapped his legs around Arthur’s waist and _pulled_ , demanding that Arthur start moving. Arthur’s hips snapped in a bruising rhythm, and they lost themselves in the push and pull of their bodies as they spiraled towards orgasm.

* * *

**35.**

The hall is full and loud with laughter and jest, but Merlin spots him immediately, shining golden and bright, unmistakeable. Arthur is carefree, laughing. He gestures with a chicken drumstick as he speaks to his neighbor at the high table.

"More wine?" Merlin asks, pitcher in hand and Arthur raises his cup without turning. 

Merlin plays the attentive servant. He fills Arthur's cup, fixed on his every motion, waiting for the slightest hint. Arthur's eyes pass over him as if he was stone or not there at all.

He expected as much. It does nothing to ease the lump in his throat.

***

Merlin hears water in the walls, or behind them, all the time now, a constant running that colors every moment he spends locked in the fortress. He cannot tell day or night but at times he is returned to Camelot - to the hall of wonders where the warriors feast.

Too often now he is unsure of where or when he is.

Sometimes he lights his dank cell with pictures of dragons and fantastic creatures and basks in the glow until he can sleep.

***

He has time now to think, to reflect on the pain he caused and the pain that drove - drives - him. Years of wandering, sailing the western seas, searching the northern mountains, studying forgotten tomes, working magic so dark he is only glad it yielded nothing.

When the gift was offered, it was so simple he cried.

***

In their long glittering halls, Morgana is set like a dark gem in a crown. She does not see him and he can only be grateful for that mercy.

***

He wakes confused, lost in the past, dreaming he hears Lancelot calling him. Then he remembers the stone of the tree, the gathering mist, the lamp-lighted door.

Lips touch his and he surges against them, welcoming the pressure. He reaches, and feels hands in his hair, strength and gentleness. It is warm and human, so real he is instantly awake and achingly hard.

Lancelot - for it _is_ Lancelot - is rubbing him, rough through the fabric of his trousers. He shuts out all noise, the terrible humming of bees, and focuses on Lancelot's his tongue in his mouth, tasting and breathing each sensation as a man dying of thirst drinks water.

"Come," Lancelot says, and he does. The buzzing dies away. Merlin opens his eyes and sees a door where there was only stone.

***

Of course, there is always a price. They might let him out of one prison, only to put him in another. At least this one is something he can do. Merlin knows secret places, deep caves and ancient cursed castles.

He brings them the horn, the hilt, the hamper, the halter and the chariot before he grows tired of the game. Then he shakes the earth so hard that the sea rises up and fire sprouts from the ground.

They build a glass tower for his treasure, a paradise where pretty girls serve sweetmeats and wash his feet. But Merlin escapes that prison too.

***

Arthur is on the beach when he comes out of the hill. A cold breeze is blowing off the lake and Arthur is wrapped in a blue cloak and looks younger than Merlin even remembers him.

His look is quizzical, as if he is trying to remember something far away and Merlin swallows, suddenly wrong-footed.

"Your Highness," he tries, and Arthur's eyes go blank. "Arthur!"

Something, but it's not enough. Merlin reaches out and pulls Arthur to him with his magic because he can - and there, _there_ \- Arthur shakes and recoils and that is the most reaction he has seen from him so far. He strips his clothes with a word and Arthur tries to run, but he binds him with magic cords, invisible but strong as iron.

It's so wrong but he is filled with joy by the way Arthur bends away from him, like a tree in a high wind, fear in his eyes.

"Arthur," he says again and again, calling him back from wherever he is, as he spreads his thighs, as he licks and sucks his cock, his hands roaming freely, calling with every ounce of power.

When Arthur comes in his mouth, he starts to cry, and Merlin pulls back. The taste of salt in his mouth makes him sick and horrified.

"Oh," Arthur says, "Oh, Merlin." And then he smiles. "You're here."

* * *

**36.**

"At least tell me your name. To whom do I owe my life?" Arthur asked as he followed a young, handsome priest-in-training along a long, cold corridor inside the Venetian monastery. 

"Merlin," the man said reluctantly, looking at Arthur with a strange expression as he let him into a room. The room was small, modest compared to the extravagance Arthur associated with the Church. But _Merlin_ , clearly didn't get into the profession for reasons of wealth. 

"I’ll be in the chapel," Merlin said, leaving Arthur in the silence of the dusty room. 

Sitting down on the bed, Arthur thought about how unfair life was that the man that granted him sanctuary was gorgeous but had taken a vow of celibacy. 

Arthur realized this was Merlin’s room; letters addressed to him were on the table. Natural curiosity taking over, he opened the diary he found underneath the bed, flipping the pages to the last entry; "Apocalypse" it was called, and began reading. 

_I had the dream again last night. This time, I didn't wake up before... it happened._

_God forgive me this terrible sin. But I wanted him. I still want him._

_He kissed every inch of my body, kisses both feather-light and wet. He took the tip of my cock in his mouth, sucking it lightly, then taking in more and more until my I arched upwards into his amazing mouth. Fingers, slick and smooth, they entered my body, pressing deep inside to a place where a mere graze is enough to ignite me._

He wasn't supposed to read this, but he couldn't stop, hand already on his cock.

_He fucked me and I begged him to go harder, faster until he spilled his seed inside of me._

_It was glorious. This man whose face I have never seen, I need him. I think I might die without him._

_But maybe dying is better than having the prophecy become true..._

Arthur couldn’t help it, spilling over his hand before he noticed Merlin standing in the doorway…

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled, getting to his feet and trying to cover his cock.

But Merlin didn't look like he was angry at Arthur’s invasion of privacy or his desecration of the church.

He looked like he was going to faint. "Arthur," Merlin muttered, before plummeting to the floor. Arthur lurched forward to catch him, realizing as he did, that he never told Merlin his name…

Merlin lay sprawled across the floor, looking pale and ill. From feeling his forehead, Arthur knew he had a fever. Suddenly Merlin’s hand was on top of his, holding it as if it were a lifeline. 

“Merlin, what's going on... Why are you sick?"

"The dreams," Merlin rasped, "you read the dreams, didn't you?" Merlin gestured to the notebook lying discarded on the floor. 

Arthur blushed. "Yes."

"They're true."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, a feeling of apprehension creeping up on him. He freed his hands from Merlin’s grasp. "Merlin. Why is your diary called 'apocalypse'?"

"Because I was cursed.” Merlin said bitterly, “Cursed to fall in love with a man who could never love me back, destined to either bring the world to its premature end or... sleep with this man, this impossible lover.”

"That's ridiculous. There's no such thing as curses,” but as he said it, Arthur knew something was wrong. Merlin’s breathing was slowing down, his temperature rising further. 

"You're dying. Why are you dying?!" Arthur said, afraid to touch Merlin again but desperately wanting to. 

"Because it's you Arthur.” Merlin said, voice getting weaker, “I knew when we shook hands tonight. The prophecy is being fulfilled."

Arthur growled, hands grabbing hold of Merlin’s, watching the man’s eyes widen. "I fell for you the moment you opened that door, you beautiful, beautiful man. You fulfilled your own prophecy fleeing into this profession, making it ungodly to love you.”

His hands travelled to Merlin’s face, bending closer and leaving a kiss on those pale lips. He smiled. “It's a good thing I don't believe in god.”

Touch by touch, kiss by kiss, Merlin started to become alive again, moaning and licking into Arthur’s mouth as if he wished to devour him whole. 

"I’m going to do everything that man did to you,” Arthur whispered. 

"You _are_ that man, Arthur, Arthur..."

It was the last either of them spoke, as they fell into a mess of tangled limbs. Afterwards, Merlin fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Finding comfort in Arthur’s arms and the knowledge that tomorrow there was going to be a new dawn.

* * *

**37.**

Arthur couldn’t stop pacing, worrying his fingertips against his teeth in frustration as Merlin laid sick and shivering in a pile of blankets, still four days’ ride from Camelot. Two days had passed since their encounter with the witch who had cursed him. Arthur’s attempts to hurry home had slowed as Merlin grew weaker. 

Looking over, Arthur saw Merlin struggling just to sit up from beneath his blankets. The painful clench in Arthur’s chest stalled him, before he hurried over to help Merlin and give him some water.

“We must remember what the witch said.” Merlin managed barely a whisper, “The antidote.”

Oh, Arthur had been thinking of nothing but those words - ingrained as soon as the witch had spoken, ‘Only the touch of a noble knight, given of the purest love, will heal him.’ 

“We’re set for the antidote’s first half,” Arthur stated with a characteristic smirk, managing a smile from Merlin. 

Then Merlin’s gaze fell. Arthur watched him bite his bottom lip before wheezing out, “It’s just the second half we may be lacking.”

Arthur’s throat tightened with the need to console, fingers curled with the need to hold, but this was exactly the part causing him agony. 

Truthfully, Arthur knew he fulfilled both requirements. But he had never planned on revealing the true nature of his feelings, and under these circumstances, an already unthinkable task became truly Herculean.

As Arthur led their horses on foot, Merlin thought aloud as he rode bundled up, “I’m quite close with Lancelot and Gwaine. Perhaps one of them can fulfill the antidote.”  
Arthur cursed himself for the ugly burn of jealousy behind his heart.

Arthur knew he was the one who could break the curse. He just had to find a way, around the minefield of want but you will never, ever have that he had long sealed around his feelings for Merlin.

That night, Arthur stood facing away as Merlin shivered in front of the fire. Finally, Arthur demanded, “Why aren’t you angry with me?”

Merlin slowly lifted his head. “About what?”

“That I won’t try breaking the curse myself.”

“I’m just a servant, Sire.” Arthur could imagine Merlin huddling farther down in his blankets. “You’re not just a knight, you’re a prince. You would know your own mind, your own feelings. There’s no reason for you to lower yourself in the attempt if you know it will be fruitless.”

“Damn it, Merlin.” Arthur finally whirled around, stalking closer. “What rubbish! I thought you knew me better, you utter fool.” And Arthur kneeled down, took Merlin’s face between his hands, and kissed him purposefully. He’d taken the plunge, but Arthur knew with relief he’d done right.

Merlin’s eyes were unfocused, questioning when Arthur pulled back. Where Arthur cupped his face, his thumb brushed Merlin’s cheek. “It’s me, you great idiot. Though I’m a fool as well, for not telling you immediately. If you can forgive me for wasting precious time…”

A slow smile recalled the color to Merlin’s face. He touched the back of one of Arthur’s hands. “Of course,” he whispered, and Arthur was transfixed. 

Arthur settled Merlin in the blankets, leaving a small, tender kiss on his lips as he started peeling Merlin’s clothes away.

“I’ll admit I’m frightened, Merlin,” Arthur murmured against the soft skin of Merlin’s navel, as he removed Merlin’s trousers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, it can’t hurt worse than dying.” They shared soft laughter, familiar ground, as Arthur undressed. Merlin breathed deeply as Arthur’s warm, wide body settled close. “Feeling your touch, inside…it could never hurt.” Arthur shivered, arousal spiking and hardness growing.

Taking account for Merlin’s weakened state, Arthur’s touch was feather light as he trailed kisses down Merlin’s chest and stomach. In between Merlin’s legs, Arthur cupped Merlin’s thighs and lifted them back, so his lips could map the vulnerable inside of Merlin’s thighs. Merlin arched slightly, with a breathy sound that stole Arthur’s sanity.

Slick fingers eased in, and then Arthur himself was sinking into the place where Merlin was still warm after his limbs had grown cold. Arthur kept one ear attuned to the sounds Merlin produced, ensuring he wasn’t in pain. Instead, the sounds of pure rapture along with Merlin’s sweet, intoxicating tightness made Arthur’s toes curl.

Merlin regained some color and warmth, but received several more treatments. As they neared Camelot, Merlin confessed, “I was healed after the first time. I could feel it.”

Arthur just smiled, bemused. “I’ll take it that’s your own strange method of saying you love me too.”

* * *

**38.**

He thrust, and thrust again, eyes tight shut, all his being focused on finishing, on ending it—

A hand wrapped around his chin, smooth fingers against the grain of his stubble. “Slowly,” Mordred whispered in his ear, an intimacy he'd never earned; “We must enjoy ourselves, or the magic is lost.”

Merlin opened his eyes, and though his breath came short, though his hips slowed and his shoulders shook with the strain of giving pleasure, his gaze spoke nothing but pain tempered and made steel by poisonous hate.

“Reach further,” Mordred said, spread out heedlessly beneath him, a feast laid over blue sheets. His hands were languid as they stroked over Merlin's chest; his lips were red as he caught them between his teeth. “You hold too much back, Merlin. Release yourself.”

Merlin bowed his head to the frissons sparking in his skin under Mordred's touch, and pushed deeper, Mordred's body folding easily around his own, pulling him further into slick heat.

 

The fields had been frozen, after the fires of battle had died. Arthur's skin had been cold to match; his lips no longer able to hold the warmth Merlin pressed upon them in panicked desperation.

“You may yet save him,” Mordred had said, laying aside his sword. He had spoken of magic, of the sacred heat between two bodies, and Merlin had been wandering in the dark for long enough to hear the truth in it, to ignore the feeble warnings of his own heart.

 

Arthur lay beside them on the bed, near enough to touch, though Merlin could not bring himself to reach a hand out. He could not have said which fear held him back: that Arthur lay cold still, unchanged, or that he might wake to find Merlin lying spent in Mordred's arms. Merlin spread his knees, dug his fingers into Mordred's hair as an anchor while he gave his body up to the magic. It was growing between them, washing along their muscles as they groaned and thrust, slipping underneath their mingled sweat. The smell of it was sharp in the air, as copper as blood, at odds with the sweeter musk of sex, and as it lifted him up Merlin felt it dull his mind, wrapping him in a numbing shroud. Mordred's legs were locked hard around his waist, Mordred's body clenched hot and tight around his cock; Mordred's words and the nip of his teeth were on his lips—but Merlin felt none of it. Something had severed the very threads of him, and his broken ends flew free, out of his grasp even had he wished to reach for them.

 

“Close now,” Mordred gasped, and set his teeth in Merlin's shoulder, dragged his nails down Merlin's spine. “Can't you feel it, Merlin? Can you taste the power?”

Merlin could, though he had closed his eyes and mouth against it. He could not pretend Mordred was anyone else—Arthur's scent, the confidence in his movements and the soft noises he made deep within his throat: those were utterly distinct—but his body was a traitor to the memories, calling them unbidden as it bore him over the crest. Mordred shuddered and shouted in his grasp, exultant, and the noise kept the sob in Merlin's chest a secret. The end, when it came, tore over him in a pitiless wave, sweeping his bones from him like water, and he offered everything he could bear in sacrifice, in foolish hope.

 

“Will he wake?”

Mordred did not pause. “You know the Old Magic,” he said, buckling on his sword in smooth, practiced movements. “You'll find out soon enough.”

Merlin did not watch him leave. Arthur lay sunken-cheeked beside him, senseless of the betrayal—for he would, when he woke, see it as nothing but the deepest sort of treason—and Merlin studied him, waiting for the change to come. He did not reach to trace a finger along the familiar curve of Arthur's nose, his jaw. A cold had settled into him: deep, relentless; he could not risk a touch to see if Arthur had warmed, for he did not know what he might do.

He only watched, and waited.

* * *

**39.**

Arthur manages to duck under the delicate vase lobbed at him. It shatters on the wall behind him, no doubt ruining the other priceless works in his home. 

"Oi, you witch! That was my mother's!" 

"I don't care!" Morgause shrieks at him, taking aim again with a decorative glass orb, "You fucking cheater, I swear, I'll cut off your balls--" Arthur winces, knowing that his girlfriend (now ex-girlfriend) would follow through. "--any tits would do, huh?" The orb whizzes past his ear, and Arthur jerks sideways.

She screams "Take this!" followed by a bewildering amount of gibberish and hand waving, which Arthur takes to mean that she's gone off the deep end. Until he feels suddenly exhausted and sees Morgause's unbearably smug face. 

He sags to the floor, gaping at her. "What did you _do_?"

"Cursed you. You need to get fucked by a man by midnight tonight," She says, her voice matter of fact and not at all scratchy from yelling.

Arthur blanches, and Morgause, the bitch, smirks, “Or you'll die." 

"Curses don't--,” He protests weakly, “Magic doesn't exist!”

"Why don't you find out?" With that, Morgause leers at Arthur, snaps her fingers and--just like that--disappears. 

~*~ 

Not willing to tempt fate (or the curse), Arthur finds himself in a hotel room bouncing nervously on the bed. 

It's uncomfortable waiting for the man he picked up to shower and as the seconds ticks by, Arthur wants more and more just to leave. Just as he’s about to make up his mind, the bathroom door opens revealing the man in all his naked glory.

"Hey handsome," he says, striding forward and leaning over Arthur. 

Arthur swallows, "Hey." 

The man nuzzles at his jaw, placing wet kisses and Arthur relaxes. This is good, he thinks, it _feels_ good. "I'm Arthur," he groans, just as those lips reach his collar. 

"No shit?" The man says, not pausing in his ministrations, "I'm Merlin." 

Arthur's breath huffs out in half laugher, half shock as Merlin deftly unbuttons his shirt and slides his hands over Arthur's chest. Arthur can't help but to lean into Merlin's touch, his breathing already ragged. Arthur shimmies out of his pants, before running his hands through Merlin’s hair.

"Bed?" Merlin asks and Arthur nods, and they fall on the bed tangled together. This is brilliant, Arthur thinks a bit hysterically, as Merlin palms his erection. 

"Oh god.” Arthur babbles, thrusting his hips up into the delicious friction and lets out a guttural sound. "Oh fuck, _Merlin_ , fuck me." He pants in Merlin's ear, feeling Merlin nod and pull away from him. He’s never been so turned on in his life. 

A few seconds later, a slick finger circles his entrance. Arthur shoves his hips down, encouragingly and the finger slips in all the way to the knuckle. Back bowing, Arthur clenches around the intrusion, and ok, that feels much better than he expected.

" _Fuck_ ," Merlin whispers hoarsely. The finger slowly withdraws and Arthur feels curiously empty. Whimpering, he bears down on around the slick finger and Merlin, bless him, understands. One finger becomes two and soon Arthur has three fingers deep in his arse hitting his sweet spot and doing their best to fuck him into oblivion. When Arthur manages to look up at Merlin through his sweaty fringe, Arthur finds that Merlin looks as wrecked as Arthur feels. 

Arthur chokes on his next words, his fingers clenching and unclenching in the sheets. "Do it, I'm ready, come on, oh!" And Merlin slides his cock in, in, in, and breathes harshly as he waits for Arthur to adjust, but Arthur scrabbles at Merlin’s back, tugging at Merlin to _move_.

Merlin is rough and fucks harder than Arthur expects, but it’s perfect and Arthur cries out with every thrust, feeling as though Merlin's going to spear the very heart of him. He gives as good as he gets, going wild under Merlin's increasingly brutal pace. 

Unable to keep his voice down, Arthur feels like an honest to god porn star, and Merlin can't seem to be quiet either, but he stifles his noise by kissing every stretch of Arthur's skin that he can reach, as if he can't get enough of Arthur and suddenly Arthur is coming harder than he's ever has before. 

Dimly, he feels Merlin's hips stutter and Merlin comes with a wordless cry. They pant together, slowly coming down from their high, and Merlin mumbles, “We should do that again.” Arthur hums noncommittally, but rolls over and pulls Merlin tight against him and mentally thanks Morgause.

* * *

**40.**

As soon as he turns his back on the lake, the young Warlock slowly treads a path away from the road he had a come—a little further down that way, he is supposed to meet up with the main thoroughfare into Camelot—his beloved friend, Guinevere, will be desperate to see a familiar face. His foot faults bring him further and further away from the home he has known for a long time. There is no home left for him there.

He feels the heat of the sun beating down on his back—the rays piercing through his scalp, no rain in a week has dried the grass to the point that it is almost brown—without the effects of magic, Merlin witnesses the aging lines of Dragoon poking through his youthful appearance. The battle at Camlann still vivid in his mind, a dreamless sleep would not stop the devastation from playing in his waking thoughts.

Passed out at the foot of an oak tree, Merlin closes his eyes hoping for a rest—the gentle splash of water from behind startles him out of his revelry—he sits up, looking around the tree and spots a blonde girl bathing herself in the creek below the tree he’s leaning on for support. Her voice is singing an old rhyme he had forgotten long ago.

With her back to him, he watches as she massages something into her skin. The curvature of her waist creating what looks like an hourglass that he would have found on Gaius’ desk, his curiosity at this shape before him leads him to make his way towards her. One step over a loose twig at the water’s edge brought the girl’s attention to the shore—her head turns, nearly opening her mouth to scream when she stops with it open, staring at Merlin—the look she gives him was something akin to shock if not horror.

“You are a long way from Camelot,” her voice as shrill as he remembers it, the cool blue eyes boring into his own as she gives him a onceover, “it must be a long time since I’ve been there. You look so old.”

No words could come to Merlin’s mouth as he stares hard at the Lady Vivian—still as beautiful and shallow as ever—he is close enough to the edge of the water to see his reflection. The older man he used to play creases over his cheekbones, hair slowly growing down his chin. Getting older without a spell, he is transfixing on the creature before him in the water. Her body turning again to wipe soap from her front and sides, an alluring sight to behold, he passes through the water and stands behind her.

His breath coming out hard as he feels his body tighten—desperate to touch this beautiful creature—her shrill voice be damned, he asks candidly, “How long have you been here,” the slight turn of her head to answer him stops as he cups her ass firmly, pulling her towards him, dragging her back to shore.

It was in laying her down along the silt and mud drifts that he realizes how he is fully dressed, pulling himself out, he doesn’t think of what more he should do. Her body is ready—waiting for him to claim her—her lips begging for him to taste her. She clings to him as she wraps her legs around his naked lower half, screaming in pure pleasure as his thrusting goes deeper, fuller into her folds.

If he was going to die tonight, he wasn’t going to think that way. The more he pushes in, her back arches towards him, he spills himself inside her as she tightens her core around him. Merlin’s body shakes, convulsing again, Vivian’s legs tightening around his waist as she screams, “My love, please, don’t leave me again,” she whispers, “don’t tell Arthur.”

Before he could say that Arthur is gone, Vivian touches Merlin’s face, she confirms, “I know he’s gone,” she places his hand over her heart, “I felt it here.”

Placing Merlin’s hands over her belly, she adds, “Life doesn’t have to end with King Arthur, you know.”

“No,” Merlin agrees, his body quivering again with the need—the hand caressing down her belly traces its way down—his fingers touching the again wet mound between this blonde woman’s legs, “I could use a distraction.”

Indeed, his needs are very distracting.

* * *

**41.**

Gwen’s tears were the clincher.

When Gaius first suggested that the only cure for Arthur’s sleeping sickness was what he delicately referred to as “the vital essence” of a wizard, Merlin hadn’t even known what he was talking about.

“You mean we need to mix our blood or something?” Merlin had asked. Gaius had given him the eyebrow, Leon had turned pink, and Gwaine had looked impatient and made a circle with the thumb and forefinger of one hand and moved two fingers of the other hand in and out of the circle.

Oh.

Oh.

Merlin had spluttered and insisted there had to be another way. And then Gwen, who he had known since they were all young together, had cried and begged Merlin to save her husband.

So Merlin had reluctantly agreed.

****

 

Merlin found himself in Arthur’s chambers, staring down at his King. Arthur didn’t look terribly ill, but Gaius said that if he continued in this unnatural sleep for much longer, he would die.

Arthur was lying under a thin coverlet, and when Merlin nervously picked up a corner to check underneath, he saw that Arthur was nude. He had been dressed in sleeping clothes the last time Merlin visited, and he supposed Gwen must have ordered the servants to undress him, in an attempt to make things easier for Merlin.

It didn’t feel easy.

He looked down at the man he had served for twenty years. There were gray hairs mixed in with the golden hair, and fine lines around Arthur’s eyes. But he was still beautiful, and Merlin had wanted to make love to him almost since the day they met.

But not like this.

He loved Arthur. And he didn’t want him to die.

He would have to fuck Arthur. There was no other choice.

****

 

Merlin undid his clothing with shaking hands. He thought bitterly of the irony of the situation. Once he would have given anything for a chance to lie with Arthur, but Arthur had chosen Gwen.

And Merlin had chosen celibacy.

It had been so long since Merlin had touched anyone intimately. Not since he was a lad in Ealdor. But as he slid into the bed next to Arthur’s chilled body, he hoped he would remember what to do. 

*****

 

He’d been afraid that he wouldn’t be able to get it up under these circumstances, but he got hard as soon as he ran his hand over the soft skin on the underside of Arthur’s arm. He thought about trying to kiss Arthur, but that felt wrong.

If Arthur ever kissed him, he wanted it to be of his own volition.

He stroked Arthur’s chest, noting the scars the king had received from near-misses in battle. He ran the flat of his hand along the long muscles of Arthur’s thighs, then reached hesitantly between them, touching more boldly but still not willing to touch Arthur’s balls and soft cock.

Gaius had pressed a small vial of oil into Merlin’s hand, asking in a stage whisper if Merlin knew what to do with it.

If Arthur survived, Merlin swore he was going to turn the old man into a goat for a couple of days.

He thought the best way to go about things was to take Arthur from behind. He carefully rolled Arthur onto his front, cupping Arthur’s prick so it would lie flat against the mattress. Then he uncapped the vial and poured some on his fingers.

He nudged behind Arthur’s balls, fondling the tenderness of the perineum, and teased at Arthur’s hole with his forefinger. He held his breath as he slipped a finger inside, and when he felt only minimal resistance he slowly and carefully worked him open.

To his embarrassment, he found that handling Arthur’s perfect arse made him go off like a rocket all over it. Cursing himself for a frustrated old maid, he rubbed the semen into Arthur’s skin, thinking it couldn’t hurt.

Surprisingly, Arthur’s breathing got deeper after that, and his skin went from gray to a healthy pink color.

Merlin stroked Arthur until he was hard, although still not awake, and then he pulled Arthur’s hips up and slid into him. He fucked into him hard and fast, and with his earlier orgasm he was able to make a creditable job of it.

He collapsed on Arthur’s back when he came, and laughed out loud when Arthur spoke. “If you’re quite finished, Mer-lin, you seem to have left me hanging.”

* * *

**42.**

Merlin arched up, pressing his erection against Arthur's, and moaned, the sound echoing in the large room. His head slammed against the table they were on, but he didn't seem to notice. 

"Please, Arthur," he begged, looping one leg around Arthur's waist. "Stop teasing."

Arthur didn't think he was teasing, but he wasn't going to deny Merlin anything, especially not when it had been days since they last touched. Arthur fumbled with the laces of their breeches, eventually getting them undone and tugging their clothes away. Merlin curled in hands in Arthur's hair and pulled him for a kiss, sloppy and frantic.

This wasn't the way Arthur wanted to touch his lover after so long apart, but Merlin had pounced when Arthur had finally cornered him. Merlin shifted beneath him when he finally had their cocks free, grinding up against the solid planes of Arthur's body. 

"I should have found you sooner, if I knew this was going to be the way you reacted," Arthur commented, slipping a hand between their bodies and wrapping it around their erections. "If you were this desperate, you could have found me."

"Shut up, you prat." Merlin tugged on Arthur's hair, pulling him in for another kiss. 

The air was dusty around them, and the table creaked with every movement, but Arthur was panting and couldn't stop moving, and Merlin acted like he didn't even notice the dust or hard surface. It wasn't the oddest of places they'd fucked, Arthur had to admit, so perhaps Merlin didn't even acknowledge it. 

They really needed to start making love in proper beds, honestly. 

"Stop getting distracted," Merlin said, pulling back from the kiss. He wrapped his other leg around Arthur's hip, urging him on faster, and Arthur obeyed the silent command, tightening his fist around their cocks and stroking roughly. It didn't take long for Merlin freeze beneath him, his sharp cry signalling his orgasm. He shot over Arthur's hand, streaks of white painting his fingers and cock, and Arthur followed moments later. He flopped over Merlin, indolent with bliss.

"What had you so distracted?" Arthur asked finally, as he started to move away. Merlin was gaining the far away expression that had been his norm for the past few days, and Arthur hated it, wanted it to go away. 

If only they had never found the stupid ruins. They wouldn't be stuck miles from Camelot, with two of his knights unable to move, and Merlin wouldn't be distracted. Arthur wouldn't feel helpless, unable to grasp at anything.

Merlin blinked, looking at Arthur quizzically. as though he hadn't realized he was distracted. 

"There are so many books here," Merlin said, waving his hand at the shelves surrounding them, thousands of books stacked neatly within. "It's overwhelming, this many books, this much knowledge. So many things we don't know about - computers, phones, cars. Maybe there'll be answers...."

"Answers for what?" Arthur wasn't stupid, knew that in the world there was far too much for him to truly ever know, and things he'd never be able to explain, but the questions that haunted him were ones that a book could never answer. 

"Medicine. Warfare. Building. Everything you can think of. Even magic," Merlin whispered, with a shudder. Arthur put it down to thinking of Morgana, and he frowned. 

"If there are any answers about magic, or how we can defeat Morgana, tell me immediately," Arthur told him. "But Merlin, don't lose yourself in here." He didn't add 'I don't know what I'd do without you,' or 'I'd go crazy if I lost you here' like he wanted to, only pressed a kiss to Merlin's temple, and stood up, straightening their clothes. "Dinner is in a few hours. If you're not there, I'll come in here and drag you out."

Merlin laughed at that, sliding off the table. The sudden loss of eight must have triggered something, because it went crashing to the ground, stirring up more dust. Arthur quickly backed away, coughing. 

Merlin was at dinner, although there was a stack of books at his side. Arthur made sure Merlin didn't return to the ruins that night, sticking close to his side. The place was gray and hard, with ghosts that lingered at the edges of Arthur's vision, and he didn't want Merlin to simply vanish, like the people who once lived there. It reminds him too much of magic, and he doesn't want to lose yet another person he loves to it.

* * *

**43.**

The holograms of the crowd flicker in neon colours and deafen in their triumph over the two limp bodies that the Stagehands drag into the wings.

It’s a bit sad, Merlin thinks, that he’s only happy it’s not him. 

Arthur touches Merlin’s jaw with the tip of his fingers and leans over him. He smells of herbal ointment and chemicals, of the gold paint that covers his body and shimmers faintly in the dim light of the waiting wing. 

_This will never be us_ , Arthur says, lips against Merlin’s hairline. He waits there, breath soft and fanning over Merlin’s face.

Merlin says _yours_ like he always does. Truth wrapped in a silent agreement. He tugs on Arthur’s left nipple to hear the soft chuckle it elicits, something private and secret and only his.

He counts the minutes left before its their turn by the number of times Arthur’s chest rises and falls under his hand.

An advertisement plays on the wallscreen. It’s always the same: enter the Game, it says in clashing, vibrant colours and cheerful music, and if you win enough—if you play it right, if you please the crowd—the world will be yours. Together.

It played on the wall of their Facility’s washroom the first time Arthur kissed him.

Merlin knows what they imagine when they watch him and Arthur like this: skin on skin, fingers tracing patterns along bones and muscles, the shivers and the moans, the involuntary twitches of their limbs, and the sometimes slow, sometimes frantic, hitching of their hips.

Merlin paints Arthur’s skin gold, and Arthur uses his fingers to trace green patterns on Merlin’s. And when Arthur pushes his cock into Merlin, like he does now, in one swift movement, when Merlin’s arms are pinned above him and he arches his back in an impossible bow—lets a moan pass through his lips he knows resonates in every viewer’s ears, straight down their spines—they can imagine it’s the sun claiming the grassy hills of the Earth, like two ancient deities colliding. 

Like a creation myth unfolding, unravelling, before their eyes.

They watch Merlin and Arthur push and move together and see old worlds and fallen gods, ancient rituals made of touch, of sweat, of want. It makes them squirm in their tiny boxes, in front of their tiny screens, where they’ve never known, will never know, what it feels like to have something—someone—like this. 

Someone like Arthur, who sears little kisses along Merlin’s throat, and digs his fingers into his hips. Who drags him into his lap, his cock hard and deep inside Merlin, and holds him tight, hands wide across his back like he’s never going to let go. Someone you’re willing to let unravel you between their hands, and see them re-create you with their breath, their touch, their skin. 

And they’ll never know what it’s like to take all that—the way Merlin does with greediness and need—and give it back, give it all back, changed and new and beautifully familiar. 

They look at their screens and see something barbaric. To Merlin, it’s the truest thing he has ever known.

They see what Merlin and Arthur do and it makes them want to mock the savage, unrefined ways their bodies move together, locked like puzzle pieces that shouldn’t fit but do anyway in ways they can’t comprehend. And they want it, deep in their guts, as they stare and leer, feeling shame at the base of their spine, a slow burn they can’t shake.

They’ll never push the thumbs down icon on their screens. They’re fascinated. They’re disgusted and excited all at once, unable to identified the strange ache in their chests.

And they’ll want more.

Merlin throws his head back, arms wide to his sides, shoulders almost off the ground. He cries out as he comes all over his chest, and Arthur bends down to lick at the mess, his fingers slipping and gripping in the sweat over Merlin’s ribs. He comes inside Merlin, his lips and nose smeared and salty when Merlin reaches for him, and swallows his own tastes on Arthur’s skin. 

They’ll win. 

He thinks _only two more_ as Arthur bites lightly at his lower lip, nuzzles his cheek, and the crowd erupts into applause and cheers.

Soon, Merlin will run his fingers through Arthur’s sweaty hair, like he does now, and look into his wide blue eyes, and know there will be no one watching, no end to any of it.

* * *

**44.**   
_  
“You want me- us,” Arthur gestured weakly to Merlin, “-to- um-”_

_“We believe it is ‘fuck’,” the voices carried from beneath the heavy hood the aliens, ‘NiTes of Med’hir’, wore to protect themselves from Earth’s atmosphere, all seven speaking._

_Arthur wasn’t sure where the NiTes came from and was in no hurry to ask._

_“How we gonna do…this?” Merlin asked, drawing his tee over his head, ruffling his hair into a whole new state of birds-nest that emphasized how fucking gorgeous he was; high cheekbones, straight nose and impudent mouth._

_“Obviously I’ll do you. On all fours we won’t have to see each other’s face and can pretend it’s someone else.” Arthur winced, watching Merlin’s face twist with fury. It wasn’t the truth; he was terrified that if Merlin saw his face when he got his darkest wish, to have Merlin, that everything emotion would be written across his face and Merlin’d... he wasn’t sure what Merlin would do._

_“Oh yeah, I can tell you’re gonna be a great fuck,” Merlin sneered, shedding jeans and boxers with an efficiency he’d never once exhibited before. Arthur’s blood ran cold at how he’d dreamed of this and this twisted version wasn’t at all what he wanted._

_“No,” seven cloaked arms pointing at Merlin, looking eerily like Ghost’s Of Christmas Future. “Him.” Merlin’s eyebrows rose to somewhere near his hairline, face pale._

_“O..ok.” Arthur mumbled, stripping. “We, uh, need-”_

_“Backpack.” Merlin spat as he motioned to the bag, a NiTe nudging it close with a sword-thing. If Merlin was perturbed he hid it well, finding what they needed, Arthur snatching the lube packet. He’d ripped it open and slicked his fingers before Merlin could drop the bag._

_Laying down, Arthur reached between his thighs, and efficiently stretched himself, trying not to watch Merlin tug himself hard, cock slowly responding despite the situation._

_“You want?” Arthur held out his slick hand as Merlin sheathed himself._

_Tight nod._

_Falling to his knees, Merlin shuffled forward and let Arthur slick him up, staring at the ceiling, before moving to help him flip-_

_“No.”_  
 _  
Both heads snapped around, before Arthur resettled on his back, spreading his thighs for Merlin to settle between. Lifting heavy-muscled thighs around his waist, Merlin wasted no time in situating himself, glanced up for permission before tentatively rolling his hips forward as he breached. Arthur gazed blindly over his shoulder, unaware the NiTes, of anything but the feel of Merlin within him and how his body moved with each gentle thrust, head swaying, friction warming his back as his body yielded for this man._

_Then he was staring at Merlin’s ear, mesmerized by the pink shell as heat pooled in his stomach._

_Then a flushed cheek as goose-bumps broke out across his skin as Merlin thrust harder, cock dragging across his prostate._

_Then the trio of beauty-spots beneath his eye as Arthur felt his cock stiffen and wished he could kiss that impudent mouth._

_Somehow, Arthur found himself staring into the dark, glazed eyes of the man he loved._

_And was unable to stop himself. He moaned one horrible, wonderful, word._

_The vacant look turned assessing as Merlin stilled._

_“What?”_

_“Your knees knocking together.” He lied, chasing the truth but unable to catch up. Merlin radiated disbelief before a calculating smirk twisted his lips and Arthur’s heart thumped double-time as he suspected what Merlin planned._

_As Merlin’s hips drew back so slow, Arthur tried to stuff his fist in his mouth but Merlin clamped his wrist to the floor as he punched his hips forward, again, again and those traitorous moans, those double-crossing words flooded out and Arthur clenched his eyes, waiting for a blow, and when it came, it was harder than he expected._

_“Me too.”_  
  
“So, ehm, no probe-” Merlin’s voice cut across Arthur’s, smile evident. Friday night was their ‘fantasy fuck’ night, spilling secrets to each other.

“No.” Arthur yelled, thighs clamping around Merlin’s ribs.

“It’s not an ‘alien does stuff to me’ fantasy. It’s a ‘I get my shit together and tell you how I feel’.” 

Merlin stilled.

“Oh.” The idiot blinked rapidly, clearly confused. “But we did that. We kissed,” Arthur sucked Merlin’s lower lip as he demonstrated. “We kissed, and we shagged. And shagged more. It was good shagging.”

“Stop saying shag.”

“Only if you shag-”

Arthur rolled them over, blanketing Merlin with his orgasm-lax body as Merlin’s cock and come slid free of him, aware he was crushing Merlin and knowing, finally, just how much Merlin craved that.

* * *

**45.**

Merlin’s dark head rested on Arthur’s chest, ear pressed surely over his steadily beating heart. The seldom had the chance to sleep together like this. Most of their time was spent travelling, searching for Aithusa and any remnants of the Old Religion, and fighting the eerie batrachian creatures with perverted human features and gibbous eyes that served the Old Ones.

“We’ll find them, Arthur.” ‘You wouldn’t have come back to me it there wasn’t a way,’ went unsaid.

Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hand where it lay on his chest. “You always did have enough faith for the both of us.”

He squeezed his hand back and closed his eyes, letting Arthur’s heartbeat wash over him like a reassuring blanket.

It had been hard when Arthur first returned. Both men facing feelings and emotions that had lain buried for millennia, as well as the horrors that had spawned Arthur’s return. But as always they struggled through, slaying and laying to rest solid and emotional demons alike.

Excalibur had proven a powerful weapon in that fight. As they had left the sanctuary of the island Excalibur had risen from the waters of Avalon just as the Old Ones had risen from their silent slumber in the sea. The blade hardened in dragon’s breath sliced through the other worldly creatures felling them where all other weapons had failed. Now they were on yet another quest, though in a much different world; a quest for artefacts of the Old Religion. The powers of the Old Religion seemed to be the only weapon against the Old Ones.

Merlin sighed at the feel of Arthur’s strong fingers tracing the knobs of his spine. Arthur had been back for five months, one week, three days, and seven hours; the same time the world ended and the Old Ones had risen. They had been lovers for two months, three weeks, six days, and three hours of that time. 

Usually their lovemaking was hard and fast, a frantic, primal reminder that they were both alive. It was what made nights like this so special. They could take their time relearning each other, taking in all the new scars, and there were always new scars, new terrain to add to their mental maps of the other’s body. As horrible as each new scar was, it was a reminder that they were alive.

Tonight, Arthur had made a thorough study of Merlin’s body. It had been so close, a claw digging into Merlin’s chest for a split second before Arthur had been able to bring Excalibur down on it. The three deep gouges along Merlin’s pale flesh were still read and healing- the newest addition to his map. Arthur had spent extra care kissing each mark, a meagre penance for his failure. He’d spent hours worshipping and teasing Merlin’s body before finally pushing inside and setting up a mind-blowingly slow rhythm, torturous in its hidden meaning. They were alive and together and tomorrow they might not be, so tonight, as with every night they had together, they made love to be remembered, the possibility of it being the last always to close to the surface. 

Tonight they moved together, the only two beings that mattered, their bodies and their love. Tomorrow would bring monsters and uncertainty and tonight could be their last, so they loved, strongly and purely, a love to last forever.

* * *

**46.**

Lancelot made his way into Gaius’rushed up the stairs to Merlin’s room.

Gaius was there leaning over an unconscious Merlin, wiping sweat off his glowing brow. Lancelot stopped in his tracks and stared at his friend.

Merlin moaned and thrashed about. His hands reached out towards Lancelot and Lancelot didn’t hesitate to move closer. He grabbed Merlin’s outstretched hands and was pulled forward.

“Wait, Lancelot!” Gaius’s warning came too late. 

Lancelot found himself at Merlin’s side on the bed, a strange tingle of sensation and a soft yellow light ensconcing the both of them.

“It’s happening sooner than expected. I spelled him to sleep, but it’s not going to last long. I can’t be in the room when it happens and I can’t help you, Lancelot,” Gaius said.

“He won’t hurt me. We at least had a chance to discuss it briefly before today,” Lancelot said.

“His power is surging, I can feel it. You’ll have to stay calm, Lance. His magic needs a constant connection until it settles. Good luck,” Gaius said and then he was gone.

“Shit,” Lancelot said as he looked over at Merlin to find his eyes wide open and glowing gold with power.

“Mine,” Merlin said, his was more of a growl than anything, but Lancelot understood the sentiment. Merlin pushed Lancelot onto his back and climbed on top of him, quickly divesting him of his shirt and pants.

Lancelot tried to help but he was made immobile by a flash of Merlin’s eyes and could do nothing more than look up at the man above him.

Merlin leaned down and captured Lancelot’s mouth in a kiss that silenced any protest Lancelot might have. Lancelot moaned into Merlin’s mouth aching to touch Merlin in return but he was powerless to do so. Lancelot felt Merlin’s magic surge through him, it was warm and made all his nerves itch with want. His muscles twitched from the exertion of trying to stop Merlin’s magic so he could touch him.

“Please,” Lancelot begged.

Merlin’s eyes flashed and suddenly they were naked together. Merlin was rubbing himself against Lancelot creating a delicious friction between them. Lancelot felt his precome drip onto his stomach and he was desperate to come.

“Merlin,” Lancelot said. He was right on the edge but Merlin reached down and grasped the base of his cock and stopped him from coming.

“Not yet,” Merlin said and retreated from Lancelot. He flipped Lancelot over and began to finger him with a clear gel that Merlin grabbed from the side table. 

The first pass of Merlin’s fingers against his prostate would have made him come but something stopped him. Lancelot could only presume it was Merlin’s magic. He let out a whimper of defeat that quickly turned into a moan as Merlin added another finger.

“Fuck me,” Lancelot managed to stutter in between his moans. Merlin relented and the glow that was surrounding them started to glow brighter. He felt hot and ready for release but Merlin’s magic wouldn’t allow him to come.

The bed shook with every thrust of Merlin inside him and Lancelot’s vision started to blur. He moaned as Merlin leaned over to bite his back and then something shifted. Merlin’s magic hummed and rolled in waves from Merlin to Lancelot and back. Merlin slid his hand between Lancelot and the mattress and then they were coming. The pleasure was so intense that Lancelot lost consciousness.

Lancelot woke up and squinted in the dark room. He had no idea how much time had passed. It could have been hours or days but Merlin was still a warm presence at his side.

“You’re awake,” Merlin said. He grasped Lancelot’s hip and brought them closer together. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay,” Lancelot replied.

“I don’t remember anything. Thank you for bonding with me,” Merlin said. Lancelot could hear the sadness in his voice and he turned to face Merlin.

“Merlin, there’s nothing to thank me for. I could have never let harm come to you. You know I care for you deeply,” Lancelot replied. He laid a kiss on Merlin’s forehead to demonstrate.

“I know. I care for you too,” Merlin said. He smiled slightly and kissed Lancelot. Lancelot couldn’t hold back his moan.

“We should let Gaius know you’re alright,” Lancelot protested weakly.

“Later,” Merlin promised.

* * *

**47.**

“Do you have to?”

Merlin hates himself for asking, but the question slips out before he can stop himself. He's been waiting to hear it for months, years, even, but he still isn’t prepared for it.

Arthur flinches, but so slightly that one would have to know his face intimately to see it. Merlin does.

“You know I do, Merlin,” he says softly. “I wish - ”

“I know,” Merlin says, refusing to give way to the panic and despair clawing their way up his throat. He turns to leave and Arthur catches his arm.

“Merlin, please,” he starts, and hesitates. It's unusual in Arthur, usually so sure of himself. “Come see me. Tonight. Please.”

Merlin shouldn't, but he's already nodding, helpless in the face of Arthur. “I will.”

*

The earth has been uninhabitable for decades now; it's been centuries since humanity first talked of leaving. Habitable planets are hard, but not impossible, to come by, and slowly but surely, humanity has departed for them.

One settlement remains. Soon there will be none.

*

They fuck fast and desperate that night, Arthur pressing Merlin's wrists into the sheets of his bed, biting at his jaw. His hips lose their rhythm faster than he'd like, but there's no time for shame, no space for anything but this – Merlin's closed-eyed, reverent expression, the way his sweat-dampened hair sticks to his forehead, his hard cock brushing against Arthur's stomach with every thrust.

Arthur gets his hand around him and gets him off quickly, fast enough that Merlin is panting hard and coming seconds before Arthur does himself.

He wants Merlin to stay, wants to curl around him and fall asleep, like they used to when they were young and full of hope. Instead, Merlin climbs out of his bed, picking his clothes up as he walks towards the door and fumbling them back on. He leaves without a word. 

Arthur doesn't sleep.

*

Arthur has known this day is coming almost his entire life. When the second last colony left earth, he was just six years old. His father raised him to be a leader, and he loves his people with everything in him. He's always known he would be the one to lead them to the stars.

*

“I can't come with you.” Merlin's voice was flat.

“I'm not going anywhere,” Arthur said, perplexed. He was enjoying a rare day off, lounging in the sun-room in the palace. Merlin sat beside him, picking up Arthur's hand and starting to trace the lines on his palm.

“I can't come with you,” he said again, softer this time, and sadder. Arthur's heart clenched.

“Merlin - ” 

“I'm – my magic – it's tied to the earth. Literally,” Merlin added, laughing humourlessly. “I can't leave here.”

“But - ” Arthur stuttered, panic bubbling in his chest. He closed his fingers tight around Merlin's.

“I'm sorry,” Merlin said quietly.

Arthur shook his head, numb. There was nothing to apologise for, but there was nothing else to say. They sat in silence for a long time, and eventually, Merlin turned Arthur's face to his, and kissed him.

“I love you,” he said, and then he left.

When Arthur returned to their rooms that night, all Merlin's things were gone.

*

The next year passes in strange stop-starts, dragging through slow, hot days, racing through months at a time. Merlin is busy; there are supplies to be stocked, people to be organised, possessions to be packed or discarded.

He’s avoiding Arthur, has been for a long time now. He thought it would make it easier when the time came, to pull away early, but the regret for the wasted time now hangs heavy on his heart.

He doesn’t know if Arthur feels the same, so he waits. 

*  
Arthur comes to him the night before he’s to leave, slipping wordlessly into his bed. For all his previous attempts at stoicism, Merlin clings to him now, pressing his face into Arthur’s neck and inhaling his scent, desperate to cement it in his memory.

Arthur fucks him slowly, and for _hours_ , until Merlin is begging, his hands fisted in the sheets, half out of his mind with desire and grief. 

“Was it easier for you?” Arthur asks when they’re curled together afterwards. “Being apart?”

Merlin just kisses him deeply, knowing Arthur can feel the hot splash of his tears on his face, knowing that will answer his question. 

*

“Find me,” Arthur whispers. “However far, however long it takes. I’ll wait, a thousand years, just come and find me.”

Merlin kisses his lips.

“I will.”

* * *

**48.**

It turns out that laughing at an unexpectedly bossy service robot (it hasn’t made it through the apocalypse with all its higher functions quite intact) and saying ‘Who died and made you king?’ is not a good idea.

It doesn’t understand sarcasm.

“For the thousandth time: you’re not royalty. You’re a _robot_ ,” says Merlin.

“You can’t speak to me like that,” says Arthur.

“You do know I could blow you up with a single thought, right?” says Merlin.

“Fetch my coat,” says Arthur (again).

‘Asksdkfjfd!!’ says Merlin.

They have this conversation a lot. 

Then Merlin fetches Arthur’s coat or whatever it is he wants because, let’s be honest, it’s just easier that way.

*

The attack was a lucky break, in a way. OK, Merlin could have done with less poisoning all of humanity, but for the first time in his life, he’s not on the run. Or five minutes away from dying horribly on someone’s dissection table, which is kind of funny when you think about it, what with the aliens and all.

He spent the first few months after they left just sitting on the beach, trying to get used to the idea of being free, smiling, saying hi to the waves and welcoming them ashore. 

Well, until one of them said hello back. 

That was how Merlin met Arthur.

*

Merlin tried to patch Arthur up as best he could, but his circuitry suffered a lot of water damage, and Merlin’s no expert. 

On the upside, he took Merlin’s magic in stride. 

On the downside, there are things like:

“Now, I really expect better behaviour from you. We have a planet to get back into shape, and brawling within the ranks will not be tolerated.”

“… Arthur, you’re talking to a couple of dogs. They were fucking. At least someone’s having fun.”

and 

“No. Absolutely not. We’re both men. What am I saying, you’re not human. _We can’t repopulate the earth_.”

*

When he finally finds Freya, and then Gwaine, the apocalypse seems a lot less awesome. He didn’t know them for very long, but they’re the closest he’s ever come to having friends.

When he sees Merlin on all fours, gasping, Arthur goes into his pre-programmed first aid routine.

Merlin snarls, “Go away.” 

Arthur frowns, the computer in his head unable to make sense of the situation.

*

Arthur doesn’t go away. He takes to following Merlin around from house to house, though he’s blissfully quiet about it. 

One day, he disappears into a library. Merlin keeps walking.

He’s consequently not expecting the flowers he finds on his pillow one evening.

He ends up shouting rather a lot, about how he will never sleep with Arthur, and will he get it through his thick metallic skull that he’s a robot, goddammit, and that humanity is long lost, anyway. 

He doesn’t even know how long his magic will keep protecting him.

He slams the door in Arthur’s face. 

*

He feels exhausted after that, so when Arthur approaches him a couple of days later, he just says, “I’m not cleaning your shoes.”

“OK.”

“Well, that’s surprisingly generous of you, sire,” Merlin sighs as he starts rooting through a closet.

“It is,” says Arthur.

Two arms close around Merlin from behind; he thinks Arthur’s going to wrestle him down, but he just stands there stiffly. Then understanding dawns on Merlin. After a few moments, he leans back, feeling magnanimous. Arthur holds him close, but Merlin’s not going to cry, he’s not; in fact, he spends a good half hour not crying as Arthur presses his nose to Merlin’s neck.

*

“You know what?” Merlin says later, when he finds the chocolate and melted ice cream by his bed. “Let’s repopulated the earth, then. Just… don’t get your hopes up too high.” 

“We can but try,” Arthur says, smiling.

“Hope springs eternal?” Merlin kisses Arthur before he can start an argument. It turns out Arthur’s tongue feels a little funny, but it’s also surprisingly skilled. He takes Merlin apart with a meticulous precision that has him sobbing into his pillow; it doesn’t even matter that Arthur’s cock can’t get hard, he’s hot and real under Merlin’s hands, and his fingers are… well. 

By the time he comes for the third time, Merlin feels quite accepting towards being bossed around. 

“Well,” Merlin says, “if we keep this up, at least we’ll go out with a bang.” He doesn’t even mind that Arthur doesn’t get the joke. He’s a robot, Merlin’s sure he can learn.

* * *

**49.**

“SORCERY!” Uther screamed in the background as Gaius, Arthur, and Merlin stood on the balcony of the castle, watching monsters fall from black menacing clouds. The streets of Camelot flooded and Arthur watched in horror as his people were gobbled up by the finned beasts. 

“What are these monsters that fall from the sky?” Arthur asked.

“Sharks, sire.” Gaius watched as the sharks ravaged the thatched roofs and destroyed everything in their path. “They’re native of Finland and--”

A shark falling onto the balcony interrupted Gaius and Merlin could do nothing but watch as the giant beast swallowed Arthur hole. “Arthur! NO!” Without a thought, Merlin launched himself at the monstrous amphibian and allowed himself to be swallowed whole. 

The belly was moist and filled with a viscous fluid that smelled worse than Arthur’s hose after a week’s worth of training. The monster’s heart beat a cadence that echoed through Merlin’s skull and made his head throb. He felt around in the dark when a strong, slippery hand grabbed his from behind.

“Merlin! Thank gods. Did you get attacked too? I’ve got a knife; I can cut us out.”

“No, wait!” Merlin reached out towards what he thought would be Arthur’s arms to still him. “We need to--” 

“We need to get out of here?” Arthur interrupted.

“No! These monsters are part of a spell. The Sharknado: it’s an old, dangerous curse designed to ravage a city. Finned beasts with teeth like nails that fall from the sky until there’s nothing but rubble and dust. The only way to brake the curse is an...” Merlin squeezed his fists and swallowed. “An _offering_. To the gods for the spell. We have to...” He trailed off and hoped Arthur caught on.

“You can’t mean....” Arthur gasped. “Inside this beast?”

“For Camelot, sire.” 

He placed his hand on Arthur’s thigh and felt the muscle under his hand coil and tense. He tried to drown out the ever present beat of the shark’s heart and focus on the warm body in front of him. He ignored the film that covered every inch of both of them, the slimy slide of skin against skin, and the horrific stench of whatever the monster had previously devoured. He instead focused on Arthur’s steady breathing and familiar presence. 

He reached Arthur’s pants and took a moment to pause before he continued. Of all the times he had fantasized, he never imagined it quite like this. But despite the circumstances, it was still Arthur: familiar, golden, warm. 

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered when Merlin’s hand finally worked its way into the folds of Arthur’s trousers. His breath was hot against Merlin’s neck and despite it all, Merlin shivered and shifted closer. He buried his nose behind Arthur’s ear and inhaled, finding the warm earthy scent of Arthur under the stench of the monster. 

Arthur’s cock stiffened in Merlin’s palm and he squeezed his fist around the shaft and moved his thumb over the tip. He focused on the silky skin and the way Arthur’s breath lost its steady rhythm as he moved his hand faster, pulled the length harder. 

“ _Merlin_ , you’re always,” Arthur choked off when Merlin rimmed the tip and pushed under his foreskin. 

“I’m always what, sire?” he prompted, feeling a hint of cheek despite the circumstances.

Arthur huffed and Merlin thought he felt Arthur’s cheek curl into a smile. “Infuriating.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes and stilled his hand. “Do you say that to all the boys who have their hand on your cock?” 

“Most of them, yes.”

Merlin sped up his hand and twisted in a way that he enjoyed on himself in retaliation. He reveled in Arthur’s soft gasp. Arthur’s cock stiffened impossibly more as he stroked velvet skin and the steady throb of his pulse resonated through Merlin’s palm, drowning out the ceaseless beat of the shark’s heart. 

Arthur grunted and thrust into Merlin’s hand, his breath ragged and his moan broken. Merlin longed to see his eyes, the blue lost to the black of arousal. “For Camelot,” Arthur growled, his voice low and thick. Merlin shivered with repressed desire. His body taut and his release coated Merlin’s fist with familiar warmth that Merlin longed to feel again.

Aroused, annoyed, and in desperate need of a bath, Merlin was ready for this episode to be over. “That should be enough to appease the gods. Can you cut us out of here?”

Merlin didn’t need to see Arthur to know he rolled his eyes, but he was reassured when he felt him draw his sword. “I suppose the tide has turned, sire.”

* * *

**50.**

No one speaks to Arthur directly. The servants duck their heads and scurry away when they cross his path. A dozen guards and some of his knights are armed to the teeth and shaking like leaves when Arthur arrives. His knights avoid his gaze and keep their eyes on the floor. 

“Tell me,” Arthur snaps. 

Someone finally speaks. “It’s Merlin, sire, he?”

Arthur doesn’t wait to hear more. He brushes his way past the guards who move aside for him, and knocks the heads together of those who don’t. He’ll apologise later?there’s no room for anything else in his thoughts right now.

Even so, Arthur is not prepared for what he sees when he enters the room. A massive oak tree, its roots dug into the ground and branches spread out to the ceiling, is in the centre of the room, glowing greenish-gold. Arthur squints against the light and makes out a naked figure tied to the tree: Merlin. 

Arthur is halfway across the room, his sword ready to cut Merlin free, before he realises that Merlin isn’t tied to the tree?he’s _in_ the tree. Merlin’s wrists are melded to the tree’s branches, the lower half of his body disappearing into the trunk. Only his head and torso are free, but his eyes are closed. He’s so still, Arthur isn’t sure he’s breathing. 

“Sire,” comes Gaius’ voice from behind him.

Arthur snaps his head around. “What? _who_ did this?” 

Gaius shakes his head. “Morgana. She’s tapping into the forbidden magics to trap him. This kind of human transformation magic isn’t written in any spellbook?I don’t know of any counter spell to help him.”

“What are you saying?” Arthur asks numbly. 

Gaius looks at him soberly. “Merlin is beyond my reach. By dawn tomorrow, his transformation will be complete. He will remain a tree for eternity. I’m sorry, sire, you know I am, but I have tried every spell I know, and I have nothing to show for it.”

Arthur doesn’t bat an eyelid at Gaius admitting to using magic?Arthur would do the same in a heartbeat if he could. “Gaius, please. There must be something we can do.”

Gaius gives him a shrewd look. “There may not be anything I can do with magic, sire, but perhaps there is something you can do.”??Arthur stares at him. “What? What can I do?”

“Reach him. Make him remember what it is to be human, what it is to be loved.”

Arthur turns to look at Merlin, pale and still. He swallows hard. “Perhaps you’d better leave us, Gaius,” he says. Gaius bows and takes his leave, bolting the door shut behind him.

Arthur steps to the tree and places a hand on Merlin’s chest: it is rising and falling, just barely. Arthur decides that’s the place to start. He presses his lips to Merlin’s, breathing into his mouth, tasting greenery and magic. “Please, Merlin.”

There’s a movement, a fluttering of Merlin’s eyelashes. Arthur pulls away and breathes out a sigh of relief as Merlin’s eyes open slowly, but it’s all wrong: Merlin’s eyes are glowing gold. They blink at him, blind and unseeing, and slowly drift shut again.

“ _No_ ,” Arthur says. “Come back to me.” Arthur keeps his eyes closed this time, putting everything he’s ever felt for Merlin?anger, irritation, acceptance, fondness, desire, love?into his kiss, hoping that it’s enough and he won’t be found wanting. 

The sound of bark splitting and cracking isn’t enough to make Arthur open his eyes. It isn’t until strong, warm, familiar arms wrap around his shoulders that Arthur dares to open them. Merlin’s blue eyes stare back at him, open and startled. 

“Arthur,” Merlin says, sounding happy and dazed. He topples over onto Arthur, sending them crashing to the floor. The tree is shrinking behind them, and Merlin, all of him whole and perfect, is free.

Arthur laughs joyously, holding on tight. He rolls them over, pinning Merlin to the floor. “I’m not stupid enough to let you go this time,” Arthur says.

Merlin’s eyes widen and he smiles. Arthur kisses him again and again, unable to stop. Merlin kisses back just as fiercely, pressing every inch of their bodies together. Arthur groans, his cock rising and tightening, and feels Merlin harden along with him. It’s easy, so much easier than he ever thought, to wrap his hand around Merlin’s cock, hard and hot and _alive_ , jumping eagerly in his hand. Arthur laughs at the heat, the thrill of it. Merlin’s hand finds Arthur’s, curling around them both, and they tangle their fingers together, stroking and stroking them together until they come.

“Stay with me,” Arthur says afterward, breathless, and Merlin’s reply is, “Always.”

* * *

**51.**

Morgana whispered the spell over her shiny globe and the faces of her victims appeared. She smirked as she cast the enchantment, clouds rippling through the globe as it took effect. 

She was so sick of the pathetic _pining!_

***

“It. Won’t. Stop. Burning. I’m. Going. To. DIE!” Arthur growled through gritted teeth, holding a hand over his throbbing cock. 

Gaius tried to peek at it through Arthur’s closed fist and tsk’d. “Yes... it appears as though someone has enchanted you, sire.” 

“ _Obviously_!” Arthur shouted, gasping and starting to stroke again. His hand itched and hurt from wanking for the last three hours straight and his cock was a burning, angry red. He had no idea how precome was _still_ spurting out from the head, but there it was, dripping down his fist as he pumped his cock. “I can’t let go, or it’ll be even more painful, and I can’t just _spend the rest of my life wanking_! I’m the King, damn it!”

Merlin snorted from the corner of the room as he flipped through the pages of the large spellbook. 

“I swear Merlin if you laugh _one more time_ \--”

“Sire, you getting angry is not helping matters,” Gaius interrupted him. “The only thing that will help is release, clearly.”

“I’ve tried!” Arthur cried out, frustrated beyond belief. “I have tried everything I could think of for the last three hours and it’s just _not_ happening! Gaius, do something before someone finds out!”

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “What do you suggest I do, sire? The only cure we can find is for you to complete an orgasm.”

Arthur shuddered. As if the day couldn’t get any worse, his court physician was now staring at his cock and talking about orgasms. This was not helping Arthur with said orgasm, but his cock didn’t seem to mind at all, still rock hard. 

“I don’t think he has a lot of time left, Gaius,” Merlin said, biting his lip. “If he doesn’t... you know... then the frustration just may kill him...”

Gaius sighed. “Is there anyone you fancy, sire? I believe perhaps the help of another--”

“I cannot ask someone to do that!” Arthur blushed even more furiously, not daring to look across the room at the object of his fantasies. 

Merlin walked over suddenly and whispered something to Gaius. The old man’s eyebrows both rose and he quickly got up and cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me sire.”

“Gaius! Where are you going?!” Arthur yelped as the door shut behind him. 

“Arthur.” Merlin said briskly, kneeling down in front of Arthur, between his legs. Arthur gasped as his cock twitched harder and more precome flowed. “I’m going to suck you off, so just close your eyes and imagine whoever you want doing it, okay?”

Before Arthur could even reply, his hand was being moved and a burning sensation flooded him, rendering him speechless. However, just as he was about to shout from pain, a wet and tight suction enveloped his cock and he let out a loud moan of pleasure. For the first time in three hours, he felt pure bliss and he quickly tangled his fingers into Merlin’s hair, looking down at him with hazy eyes. 

“M-Merlin-- oh gods-- fuck-- how are you so bloody good at this?!” Arthur choked off another moan as the suction increased and Merlin hummed around his cock, the vibrations causing Arthur’s hips to jerk up slightly. He took shuddery breaths and slowly unwound under Merlin’s fingers on his thighs, clenching tightly as he sucked down Arthur’s cock. 

“I’m-- oh-- I’m going to-- Merlin--” Arthur’s heart nearly stopped as Merlin looked up at him, those blue eyes swirling with burned gold, hot with desire. Arthur gasped and clenched, coming with a hard shudder. 

He watched through blurry eyes as Merlin swallowed and pulled away from Arthur’s cock, giving it small licks. The pain had finally ceased and blood began to flow through the rest of his body normally and Arthur was shaking with the force of his orgasm. 

“You said my name the whole time, no one else’s” Merlin whispered, crawling onto the cot next to Arthur and curling around him. 

Arthur hummed in pleasure, lying them both down and holding Merlin close. “Of course I did. It’s always been you, idiot.”


	7. Group C (clean)

**52.**

'Either you do it or we shoot you both. But we're not letting you go until we get what we want.'

The man had his gun trained on Merlin and Arthur knew that he was deadly serious. He didn't wave it around or gesture with it. His arm was steady as still water, the pistol aimed right at Merlin's heart. 

A quick no-nonsense death. From a man who didn't have time to waste. They agreed or they died. Their only way out alive ensured that their captors were never caught. 

_How could we tell anyone?_

Arthur glanced at Merlin but Merlin didn't even seem to register his presence. From the moment the thugs had taken the cloth bags off of their heads and Merlin had laid eyes on the gun, he hadn't spoken and he hasn't taken his eyes off of its handler. Even as they'd undressed, Merlin's gaze didn't falter. Arthur had at least taken the opportunity to get a bearing of their surroundings. 

The room was almost bare, four white walls and one small window. The only trappings were the video camera on its tripod and the bed behind them. It was the sparsest room he'd ever been in but it was easily the most oppressive. Knowing what he knew, the bed seemed to grow until it seemed to be swallowing the room. 

And Arthur along with it. 

He knew he had to decide because Merlin would never take his eyes off of that gun. He had to swallow down bile the first time he opened his mouth to speak, and his voice wouldn't come the second time. When he finally got his close to work, he barely recognized it for how it rasped out, weak and devoid of its usual resolve. 

'Yes...,' he croaked. 'We'll do it.'

The man with the gun spoke sharply into a walkie talkie and another man appeared in the doorway not long after. He surveyed Merlin's nakedness appreciatively, raking his eyes over Merlin pale nakedness so thoroughly that it made Arthur bristle with rage and disgust. 

The cameraman fiddled with the tripod for a moment. The red blinking light emanating from the machine mocked Arthur mercilessly as he turned to the boy beside him. 

'Merlin,' he murmured, reaching out tentatively. Merlin's skin was cool and clammy to the touch and he flinched so hard that he stumbled. But he still didn't speak and that made Arthur's stomach churn. 

_I'm going to have to do this to him..._

'Merlin, I'm sorry. I don't-- _We_ don't have a choice. Just--'

'Get on with it!'

The cold muzzle of the gun jabbed Arthur between the shoulder blades, forcing him up against Merlin's front and causing erection brushed against Merlin's own. They'd been forced to drink some bitter liquid as soon as they entered the room, before being stripped and having their clothes and IDs taken, and this physical betrayal was the result. 

Taking Merlin's hand, Arthur shifted them to the bed. Merlin followed without struggle, lying down and letting Arthur arrange his limbs. When Arthur laid down on top of him, he didn't say a word. He was silent the entire time Arthur spread him open with his fingers and he didn't protest when the man with the gun forced Arthur to kiss him. 

Arthur had fighting back tears from the moment he laid his hands on Merlin with purpose and he lost the battle when he felt himself slip inside Merlin. Because Merlin still said nothing but Arthur could see that his cheeks were wet with tears. 

He stayed like that, still and cold and clammy, the entire time Arthur was inside him. The man with the gun urged them on and the man behind the camera made lewd suggestions but none of it registered on Merlin's face. He was the most animated person Arthur knew and no he was just silence and tears. 

Arthur's release was followed swiftly by the complete rebellion of his stomach and Arthur barely made it off the bed before retching. He was still heaving as he watched the man step out from behind the camera and hold up their IDs to the lens. His words made Arthur's stomach heave again. 

'Pendragon, Arthur. Age 17. Pendragon, Merlin. Age 15. Brothers.'

Merlin still didn't make a sound.

* * *

**53.**

The sun warms Merlin’s skin, makes him feel sleepy-happy as he dips his toes into the glinting water of the stream, waiting for Arthur to finish dressing. He leans back, letting his head fall against the soft grass, arms outstretched above him.

“Isn’t this your job, Merlin?” Arthur says, and Merlin smiles at the sound of shifting fabric.

“Would you like me to dress you, my lord?”

Arthur doesn’t answer.

The wind shifts, bringing with it a sweet scent, and Merlin inhales deeply, trying to place it. It’s very warm there at the stream’s edge. Too warm. Merlin unties his kerchief and tosses it. He’s sweating profusely, his skin slick with it, and he tears off his damp tunic. He’s halfway through kicking off his trousers when Arthur says, “If you wanted a bath, you should have had one earlier.”

Merlin knows those words, but he’s having trouble making sense of them. He’s naked now, running hands all over himself, across his chest, trying to put himself together, but he’s still too hot.

“What are you doing?” Arthur says. His bare foot grazes over Merlin’s chest. “Why are you so sweaty? Are you well?”

Arthur is bending over him, hands on Merlin’s neck and forehead, and Merlin looks up at him. He’s _beautiful_ , and Merlin wants to touch him, so he does. He wraps his hand around the back of Arthur’s neck and pulls him down close, rubs their noses together and goes cross-eyed trying to look into Arthur’s eyes.

“Let me—” Arthur starts, then hesitates, turns his face into Merlin’s neck. “Fuck, Merlin, you smell—” Arthur’s voice is choked off, and Merlin reaches for his breeches. They’re poorly laced, easy to push down, and Merlin presses his hand to Arthur’s groin, wraps fingers around his prick and pulls, coaxing.

“Stop,” Arthur says, but his voice is thin, breathless. He’s dragging his nose up Merlin’s chin, down his jaw, behind his ear. He’s fully hard in Merlin’s hand, and he groans hot into Merlin’s ear, bucking into Merlin’s fist.

“Need you inside,” Merlin says, winding an arm around Arthur and yanking him down, their chests touching. But Arthur pulls himself back, leans away from Merlin, crouched in the empty space between his legs. 

“I can’t do this,” Arthur says, and his voice sounds panicked, his fists clenched tight against his thighs, and his eyes roving down Merlin’s body. His desire is as clear on his face as it is in his cock, so Merlin rolls himself onto his front and gets up onto his knees, spreading his arse open and sliding a finger inside. It’s wet like the rest of him, submerged in magic and so fucking hot, and Merlin knows he needs something there to take the ache away.

“Please fuck me,” Merlin whines into the ground, fucking back onto his fingers. “I’m so fucking hot. I _need_ it.” The long silence is agony, and Merlin spreads his legs wider, circles his hips, makes Arthur _watch._

“Don’t hate me,” Arthur whispers, and finally his thighs press up against Merlin’s. Merlin pulls his fingers out and grabs Arthur’s cock, guides him in, and it’s fucking _magic_ the way Arthur fucks him. He slides in deep, leans forward and buries his nose in Merlin’s neck, jerks hard against him.

Merlin feels like he’s being ripped apart with pleasure, like every part of him is on fire, burning with need. “Need your come,” Merlin moans, forehead sweaty in the crook of his arm.

Arthur bites down on Merlin’s shoulder and fucks harder, and Merlin thinks he might die from how good it feels. Arthur’s arms tighten around him and he lets out a whine, and Merlin’s whole body is inundated with bliss. When he comes, he feels it in his skull and his knees and the small of his back. He feels elevated and breathless, and it seems like it lasts for ages.

Arthur pulls out and flops down on his back, and through the haze of coming down, Merlin can see the concern on Arthur’s face. There will be consequences, of course—those are unavoidable. But for now, Merlin reaches over to curl his hand around Arthur’s hip. Arthur looks at him, and Merlin offers up a weak smile. He watches Arthur’s chest rise and fall, and when Arthur’s fingers graze over Merlin’s arm, Merlin lets his eyes fall shut, comfortable in the warmth of the sun and the gentle rippling of the stream.

* * *

**54.**

They ran through the forest, branches slashing at their skin. A pulse shot over Gwen's shoulder and hit a birch, showering them with flaming debris. There was a loud crack and an echoing cry of pain from Morgana.

"Fuck. I've cracked my cell, we need to stop," Morgana shouted.

"Shit." Gwen pulled out her pistol and checked the fuel levels. "I've got about six shots left. You?"

"Nothing in reserves, but there's no point in hiding now, is there?"

"S'pose not. I've got point, you take the two on our seven. Go!" Gwen dropped to the ground and rolled, lining up her shot on the closest tracker bot. Her first shot went wide but she hit its sensor grid with the second. Beside her Morgana had both hands outstretched, twisting the other two bots midair, causing their shells to crack and explode.

"We need cover. Immediately." Gwen was already back on her feet, re-loading her pistol.

"There, just past the stream, I can see a cave," Morgana gestured with her right hand and winced. "We'll have to leave the scavenging, we don't have much time."

They crossed the stream quickly and plunged deep into the cave. Gwen pulled out their light pad and flicked it on.

"How bad is it?" Morgana asked, pulling off the damaged bracelet.

"Fuck, this is beyond what I can do here." Gwen turned the cell over in her hands. "We can get new casing off those trackers but I'm going to need a bonding agent for the wiring."

"You wouldn't happen to have any borax in your bag of goodies?" Morgana teased.

Gwen looked up at her, frowning. "This is serious."

"I know it is," she replied, her breathing laboured. "I can feel it building already."

"We need to get you out of here."

"What's the point? Either the magic builds until it splits my skull and I take out the entire sector or we wait til more bots show up and they kill us both," she laughed humourlessly, a bead of sweat rolling down her temple.

"There's got to be something! I refuse to die now when we've come so far!"

"There is one thing we can try. Kiss me."

"What?"

"I can try and accelerate the process and discharge the burst into our weapons."

"Morgs, you won't be able to control it, it'll kill you!"

"We're dead either way. May as well go out on a high note." She looked at Gwen imploringly and Gwen broke, launching herself across the small space and pressing her mouth to Morgana's.

Gwen could taste the sweat and ash from their firefight as she kissed down Morgana's chest, working at the buckles on her shirt, freeing her breasts.

"If you fucking die," she warned before taking one of Morgana's nipples in her mouth and sucking.

"I think it's working," Morgana moaned. "Go faster."

Gwen swirled her tongue around the nipple and made quick work of the rest of Morgana's clothes. She stroked Morgana's panties lightly but Morgana made an impatient noise and shoved Gwen's hand inside, grinding against the pressure. Gwen slipped her hand deeper and found Morgana's opening, thrusting two fingers upwards. Using her palm to massage Morgana's mound, she stroked her fingers back and forth quickly.

"Gwen, it's coming on too quickly." Gwen looked up at Morgana's eyes, already rimmed with gold and rapidly turning red.

"What do you need?" she drove her fingers up deeper.

"I ne-, mouth, I need your mouth," Morgana's head rolled back against the cave wall.

Gwen pulled her fingers out too fast, but ignored Morgana's cry of pain in favour of ripping her panties down and shoving her tongue inside Morgana's crack. There was no finesse to it, just Gwen licking and sucking anything she could get her tongue on. When Morgana let out her first started 'OH' Gwen knew she had hit the right tempo and concentrated on repeating the pattern.

"Fuck right there," Morgana choked out.

Gwen sped up her tongue and slipped one of her fingers back inside, thrusting quickly, adding vibrations. Morgana let out a sharp gasp as the first swell of her orgasm hit. Gwen kept going, feeling the energy pouring off Morgana in waves. Morgana came down with a sigh, catching her fingers in Gwen's hair, pulling her up.

"Told you it would work," she said, her chest still heaving.

Gwen rolled her eyes, checking the fuel levels on their weapons. "Next time you want to get me into bed just ask."

* * *

**55.**

Morgana stepped over the cracked threshold into the crumbled shell of the church, wings spread and sword in hand like a warrior queen of old. Her eyes scanned the reliefs carved on the remaining walls, looking for-

Ah, _there_. 

She sighed in relief, her wings rustling in echo as she stepped forward. With calloused fingertips she reached out, tracing features more familiar than her own, a spill of curls and firm, soft lips.

The wall began to glow. Light flowed along the clefts of stone like water running uphill, bringing warmth. Within moments, what had once been hard stone was soft flesh. And then Gwen was falling.

Morgana caught her one-handed, half an ear listening for sounds from outside, but all her being was concentrated there, looking down into Gwen's startled eyes as the crown she was still wearing slipped sideways.

Morgana let it fall with a clatter. Crowns and titles - those were nothing now.

"Morgana?" Gwen whispered. "Where-?"

"We're going home." Morgana set her on her feet.

"Home?"

But Morgana had already taken her hand, leading her across the ruined floor and out into what was left of the world.

~~~

After their second night huddled together, not daring to light a fire, Gwen's back began to itch. Morgana smiled and helped her cut slits in her shirt, making space for her wings to grow.

"Brown like a sparrow's," Morgana told her, "unlike mine."

Gwen took that as an invitation to touch, with a quick glance for permission. Her fingers on Morgana's primaries were careful but firm.

"Do they hurt?" she asked.

"No."

Gwen said nothing to that, but she didn't take back her hands. That night, they slept front to front, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same dusty air.

~~~

Morgana dreamed of finding Arthur, of huddling in a boat with his still form as several wyvern cried mournfully above them in the dark.

Which was silly. There were no wyvern left down near the Earth's surface. Like every other living creature with the power of flight, they had taken to the sky.

~~~

"How far is it?" Gwen asked when they stopped a few days later.

"That depends." Morgana conjured the muddy water in her flask clear. Where once mighty rivers had flowed, now only foul-smelling trickles crossed a cracked landscape, withered and crumbling. 

"Depends on...?"

"How long it takes you to fly."

Above them, cloud castles drifted against the wind, impossibly distant.

~~~

That night, Gwen offered her wings for inspection. Morgana's hands drifted gently, thumbs pressing where she knew the new skin would be the most sensitive.

Gwen shivered and made a sound in her throat. Morgana pressed her face to the middle of Gwen's back, between the roots of her wings, and kissed the skin there.

When she finally slept, she dreamed of an oak tree standing in an arid desert, its leaves shivering in the wind like green feathers, whispering. She dreamed of Arthur pressing his lips to the trunk, and wood melting into flesh, leaves into feathers.

She woke with Gwen's full-sized wings wrapped around her.

~~~

They flew up over the edge cloud-edge at dawn to find the city gleaming below. Silver-white walls reflected the sun like beacons. Beside her, Gwen gasped, and Morgana could feel the ripple of shock that ran up her body.

"Home," Morgana said, and Gwen _breathed_.

They touched down on a patio, its edges blurred by the encircling clouds, and Gwen's mouth crashed into hers before their feet quite touched down. The beating of their wings stirred the mist around them into eddies that spilled over their bodies as they tumbled into a horizontal tangle of feathers and limbs. Gwen's mouth found Morgana's breast, biting down and drawing a startled cry. Gwen's fingers were clever on the buckles of her armor.

Casting her sword aside, Morgana raked her fingers through Gwen's feathers, feeling the edges of them like a shield that would defend them both against anyone who might be watching from the towers above. When Gwen's thigh pressed between hers, she rocked down, swollen and desperate after so many nights of lying together, chaste but longing.

With a cry, Gwen arched above her, wings spread wide and face twisted in pleasure, sweat dripping down between her breasts. Morgana clutched her and rode her pleasure out like a storm..

After, Gwen lay with her head on Morgana's breast, tracing patterns with her fingertips. "We'll go back for the others, won't we?"

Morgana's wings curled around her. "Of course."

* * *

**56.**

**Invader**

He can feel the fever rising now, a slow, prickling urgency spreading from his loins over his skin and making him dizzy with need, even with the uncomfortable sensation of electrodes and straps all over his body. He hates it, feeling so helpless, in thrall to his alpha biology.

"That looks like it must hurt," the human observes, eyes wide as Arthur bucks uselessly against the restraints, too inconsiderately soft to offer distraction by chafing where his arms, hips and legs are strapped into the cot. A sympathetic flush pinks the man's striking cheekbones and sticking-out ears.

It's close enough to the appearance of heat, even without the intoxicating pheromones to support the illusion of an omega standing before him. Arthur growls for a moment, then whimpers. "Release me!"

"You were the one who warned us to restrain you," the human says, looking a little transfixed by the angry evidence of Arthur's state before his eyes. Damned rut. If he'd meekly accepted his father's choice of mate and bonded with whomever, he would not be overwhelmed like this, quietly going out of his mind. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Let me fuck you,"Arthur snaps, then he wants to sink into the cot and meld with the featureless medical bay with mortification. "Sorry, I'm not always so..."

The human (MO Merlin E Balson, Arthur reads off his tag and then promptly imagines him naked and riding Arthur's knot while Arthur moans, _Merlin, my Merlin_ ) glances over at the various human machines and frowns. "You're getting very warm." He reaches out and touches Arthur's neck. "And your pulse is racing and erratic."

"It will probably kill me," Arthur admits, and bucks uselessly again. He growls, deep in his chest. "I need..."

In answer, Merlin picks up the jug of water by the cot and pours it into a basin, starts wiping him down with a soft hand-towel. Arthur moans at the touch as much as the blessed coolness, however brief, running over his face, neck, underarms and his groin. "I can't medicate you - we have no idea which drugs will work on your race, or how. Does this help?"

Arthur laughs. "Of course. You only know the ones that will poison us. Why didn't you just let me die? I am the enemy. The prince of the invading alien forces. We've scorched whole cities, killed..." He shifts, shamelessly pushing his hard cock into Merlin's hand as the cool towel passes over Arthur's crotch again. "Touch me."

Merlin flushes, then snaps on a glove and takes hold of his cock firmly. Arthur nearly sobs in relief, fucking his hand as much as the restraints allows. "The same reason you came to us, alone and unarmed."

Even through the haze of lust, Arthur snarls wordlessly, and his next thrust is so forceful the edge of the strap cuts into his hips and something rips slightly with a low tearing sound. Merlin takes a quick breath and steps away from the bed.

"You know nothing!" He strains against the straps, but nothing else gives. It is too much. Arthur lets his body fall back into the cot, exhausted, wishing he hadn't made the attempt. "Please."

Merlin moves forward slowly, and takes him in hand again. "Tell me, then. How did you know where our base was? Why did you come to us, knowing you were on the verge of entering rut?"

Arthur closes his eyes and lets himself imagine Merlin on his knees between his legs, voice softer - less cool curiosity and more passion... He sighs, luxuriously rolling his hips into the possessive grip. "You. I dreamt of you." The grip turns almost painful, but it's good. "I dreamt you were mine. For years."

"You came to find me." Almost a whisper, almost what he dreamt.

"Let me touch you," Arthur murmurs, unthinking. "I promise I won't bond you, not unless you want it." He opens his eyes at the sound of a _click_ , heart slamming in his chest. "What are you doing - don't release me!" He grabs Merlin's wrist before Merlin can unlatch his other arm. "Get out!"

Still pumping Arthur's cock calmly, Merlin turns Arthur's grip around, lifts up his hand. The kiss he presses to Arthur's burning palm sends sensation crashing through him as his knot swells without being in a body and the first stage of his orgasm begins, impossibly.

"I have been waiting for you," Merlin says, "longer than you have sought me. Arthur."

* * *

**57.**

The stink of semen and unwashed male bodies assaulted Merlin when he ducked inside the door that led down the staircase to the Basement. By this point in the night, most people were so hopped up on whatever drugs they could scrounge from this wasted shell of a city, half of them wouldn’t even be able to fuck. Merlin preferred to keep his head clear. 

He had his own drug of choice. 

The narrow stairwell forced him to squeeze by a couple of blokes painting the face of a naked twink. Another few waited for their turn, stroking their cocks and whispering lewdly. The boy was pretty, but too young for Merlin’s taste. He looked up at Merlin, his big eyes blank, and licked a smear of come off his puffy bottom lip. 

Merlin used to be like that kid, in spirit if not in age. After the first bomb had fallen, when his magic had completely failed, when _he’d_ failed, and everyone he’d loved in this new world had been incinerated, he’d come here and been the meat in the sandwich with so many men he’d lost track. Now it was more like a bad habit. Then again, he didn’t have anywhere else to go except here to rot with the few that were still alive, eking out a bare existence. 

A familiar face greeted him near his regular room. “Emrys,” she said, smiling a catlike smile, “I’ve been waiting for you.” With her kohl-blackened eyes and streaming hair, Bree reminded Merlin of Morgana. 

“Oh, have you?” He played the game, though a droll cynicism had replaced numbness over the years. “And what have you got for me?” 

“A new bloke. You’ll like him. Blond. Fit. Handsome as the devil.” 

“I don’t want to see his face.” He glared at her. They had an arrangement. 

“Don’t worry.” She rolled her eyes as she pocketed the bottle of pills Merlin thrust in her hand. “He’s wearing the mask.” 

She sashayed away in her black miniskirt and left Merlin to push the door open and steal inside. His pulse stuttered. A man lay naked on the cot in front of him with his head turned to the wall and his lean body on display. In the oily lamplight, Merlin could see the blond fuzz of his legs, the smooth curve of his arse. His hair was blond, too, interrupted only by the black string that tethered the mask to his face. Bree had done well. 

“Don’t speak,” Merlin said, moving closer. “Just nod your head yes or no when I ask you a question. Are you clean?” 

The man nodded, and Merlin noted the cloth and basin of water to the right. A precious commodity. His cock began to lengthen, hardening in his jeans. He sat on the edge of the cot and ran his hand down the smooth musculature of the man’s rump. So much like Arthur. Merlin blinked back the surprising heat that threatened his eyes. He hadn’t cried in a hundred years and wasn’t about to start now, not for a fantasy.

“Are you afraid of magic?” he asked the man. A shake for ‘no.’

“Good.” Merlin closed his eyes. His whole body thrummed with the power he’d once called from the earth and the sky, the very lifeblood of Albion. It yearned towards the man on the cot.

He tore at his clothes impatiently, wanting to press himself against that unblemished skin. He climbed over the man’s legs to straddle him and took his perfect arse in hand, spreading the cheeks to get at the hole. He bit and licked and teased with his tongue, and then pressed one finger into gorgeous, clinging heat. In response, the man groaned and pushed back to take Merlin’s fingers inside him more deeply. A good actor, but Merlin could bring him real pleasure if nothing else. 

Merlin’s magic listened to the rhythm of the man’s longing, and his fingers followed, as did his tongue, and when he finally slicked and sank his cock into the man’s sweet arse, not even another apocalypse could have torn him away. He shook with the effort of staving off his orgasm, and then began to move. He kissed the man’s nape and buried his nose into silky hair. “Oh Arthur,” he panted. It didn’t matter what he said anymore. Albion was only a husk, and his beloved was gone.

“Gods,” the man said in a voice that stopped Merlin’s heart. “Merlin. Can it really be you?”

* * *

**58.**

“He’s a _what_?”

Gaius sighed and repeated the statement with a forlorn look at his sick apprentice. “An incubus, sire.”

“An incubus?” Arthur echoed.

“Yes. Well, he _was_ a cambion, but now that he’s come of age—”

Arthur put up a hand. “Stop. Just tell me what he needs to get better.”

“Put quite simply, sire, he needs to have sexual intercourse in order to stay alive.”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat and a blush rose to his cheeks. “He…Merlin needs to…”

“Yes, sire.”

“I see.”

“He will not like my saying so, sire, but if there is anyone he would have to perform the task, it would be you.”

Arthur swallowed. He had wondered—had hoped—if Merlin might feel the same as him. Merlin’s emotions, like his opinions, were always written on his face, but the man was remarkably adept at keeping _some_ secrets it seemed  
.  
“Then as his king, and his friend, I will do it,” he said. Gaius smiled and squeezed Arthur’s shoulder before politely excusing himself.

Once alone with his manservant, Arthur took a deep breath. Merlin’s shirt had been removed to bring his temperature down. Arthur had only to take off his trousers.

With that done, he spread Merlin’s legs so he could settle between them and laid on his stomach, taking Merlin’s limp cock in his hand.

The reaction was immediate. The lines in Merlin’s brow deepened and he pursed his lips. The harder and faster Arthur stroked, the more obvious it became that Merlin wanted this. His hips jerked up and his cock filled until it was standing at attention.

Then Arthur took it in his mouth and Merlin gasped awake.

His piercing blue eyes were almost completely black with lust as he stared at Arthur in astonishment. “A-Arthur? What are you—oh _fuck_.”

Arthur’s tongue licking the slit sent a jolt of pleasure through Merlin and his question died in his throat. Arthur sucked him off as if Merlin’s life depended on it, and if his fading headache was any indication, it did.

In fact, Merlin felt the weariness of the last few days leave his body entirely. He felt renewed strength flow through his veins. Overcome with desire, Merlin waved his hand and suddenly Arthur was just as naked as him. Merlin pushed him down on the bed and wrenched his legs open.

“You have magic, too?” Arthur said breathlessly.

Merlin’s laughing eyes glowed in reply and Arthur immediately felt wet between his legs. Merlin pumped two fingers into Arthur’s arse experimentally and found the magical preparation to be a success. Arthur only registered Merlin meant to fuck him when the servant’s cock was pressing against his entrance and sliding in mercilessly.

Then Merlin caressed Arthur’s cheek. The look in Merlin’s eyes was more than frenzied lust now. It was a look of trust and love.

Merlin seemed to occupy Arthur’s every sense: the brush of his cock against Arthur’s prostate, the smell of their combined sweat, the sound of their desperate panting, and, when Merlin leaned forward to plant a deep kiss to Arthur’s inviting lips, the earthy taste of Merlin’s tongue. Merlin’s breath was hot in his ear, and his hands were like claws holding Arthur’s thighs.

Arthur’s body was overwhelmed but still it wasn’t enough. “Harder,” he moaned, “gods, Merlin, _harder_.”

Merlin grit his teeth and slammed into Arthur with enough force to bruise, each thrust punctuated with a low grunt. There was no coherent thought in Arthur’s mind, only _yes_ , _fuck_ , _more_.

Then Merlin made a noise, a deep guttural sound in the back of his throat, and stopped all of a sudden. His spine arched and his body was taut as a bowstring as he throbbed his release inside Arthur.

Arthur nearly cried at the loss when Merlin slid out. But Merlin kissed down Arthur’s torso until he reached Arthur’s cock and sucked it down in one smooth motion. Merlin’s fingers played with Arthur’s leaking entrance, warm come coating his nimble fingers. He inserted two slender digits just deep enough to rub against Arthur’s prostate and then Arthur himself was coming in hard spurts down Merlin’s throat. Merlin kept rubbing the spot until every last drop was pulled free.

“I’m feeling much better now,” Merlin said as they lay together in post-coital bliss.

Arthur just gave him a look, though his eyes betrayed the underlying affection. “You are the worst manservant ever.”

* * *

**59.**

Merlin was glowing, from head to foot he was glowing, his eyes completely golden. A bright, unearthly blue-white glow Arthur had never seen anything like it. He was floating twenty feet off the ground while a wind whipped around him as if from nowhere. 

Arthur didn’t know what to do. Merlin was completely out of control. Bolts of lightning were shooting from his fingers, felling trees and scorching grass all around him. The wind was whipping up miniature tornadoes that were swirling and cutting random paths everywhere. The air was charged. 

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled. 

“Arthur?” Merlin cried, “No, you’re not real. I saw you die.” Merlin shakes his head as if to clear the cobwebs and the winds whip up even further. 

“Merlin! No! I’m alive! It was a trick. Morgana tricked you!” Arthur yells above the turmoil. 

“Arthur? “ Merlin’s eyes flash back to their normal blue, “is that you? Is that really you?”

“Yes, Merlin, it’s me. You think you can get rid of me that easy?”

“Arthur, I can’t –I can’t control it! It’s too strong.” 

“Merlin, listen to me. You can do this. You can control this.”

“I can’t. I just can’t. It’s too strong. Just leave.” Merlin cries, lightening sparks across the sky.  
Arthur looks at Merlin and gives a small nod, “well, then there’s only one thing for it.” Arthur steps close to Merlin and waits. “I’m not leaving.”

“I’m not leaving so you just have to explode or whatever with me here.” Arthur juts out his chin and looks defiant. 

The wind calms down a little and Merlin sinks closer to the ground, “You insufferable ass!”  
Arthur just stands there and waits.

“Of all the pig headed, stubborn infuriating idiots, you have to be the biggest!” Merlin yells as he lands on the ground in front of Arthur. 

Just like that all of Merlin’s energy leaves him and he falls into Arthur’s arms, “you would have done it too." He whispers resting his forehead on Arthur’s shoulder.

“When are you going to figure out I’d do anything for you?” Arthur lifts Merlin’s chin and kisses his lips. 

“You are the other half of me. There is no me without you.”

“Dollophead” Merlin wraps he arms around Arthur’s waist and sneaks his hands beneath Arthur’s tunic, “but you’re my dollophead,” he kisses his way across Arthur’s jaw and nips his earlobe between hi s teeth. 

Arthur groans and makes quick work of Merlin’s tunic. It ends up slung across a bush on the other side of the clearing, “Want you, want you now.” Arthur mumbles as he works at the drawstrings on Merlin’s pants. 

“Always want you” Merlin says as he steps out of his pants. 

Arthur’s steps back from Merlin with great reluctance and quickly shucks off his shirt and pants. He crowds Merlin against the nearest tree and lick his hand before taking them both in his grasp as they start up a delicious friction. Their cocks sliding together with an obscene sound of skin on skin.  
It doesn’t take long from there. Both of them needing to reaffirm the other was alive and whole. Arthur goes over the edge first quietly groaning Merlin’s name as he comes. Merlin not long after stiffened and comes in Arthur’s grasp.

They both slump to the ground leaning against each other and exchanging sloppy kisses.

“Don’t ever make me do that again.” Arthur says weakly running his hands repeatedly down Merlin’s sweaty back.

“I promise,” Merlin grins, “I’ll never, ever have sex with you again!”

“MERLIN,” Arthur yells.

* * *

**60.**

"Arthur, _please_ ," Merlin said from somewhere behind Arthur.

"Merlin, no," Arthur replied without even lifting his head up.

"Arthur, I’m going to _die_. My balls will be so blue and so tender, they will explode, I’m sure. And then I’ll bleed to death. And then I’ll be dead. All because you won’t fuck me." Merlin sighed dramatically and leaned over the back of Arthur’s big (comfy) leather chair, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, then slide their way down, past Arthur’s elbows, to his hips-

"Merlin." Arthur saved the document and grabbed Merlin’s wandering hands before they got all the way to his crotch. He pulled them up and above the chair, then spun around to face Merlin. Who went from his signature mock-pout to his signature cocky grin in a second flat, before plopping his bony arse on Arthur’s lap.

"Merlin, we've talked about this," Arthur said, running his hand over his face, rubbing some of the fatigue away. "I have to get this deposition finished before tomorrow or else my father will have my head."

Merlin grabbed Arthur by the chin (a too-tight grip that reminded Arthur of all the Pendragon Limited’s CEOs' wives cooing over him as a kid) and turned his face one way, then another. "We wouldn't want that, now. Then I'd definitely die of blue balls."

He leaned in to nuzzle his nose into Arthur's neck, smacking Arthur's hand away when he tried to pry him away, then grinding down and down into Arthur's crotch. 

"Merlin," Arthur tried again, this time a different approach. He rubbed his hand along Merlin's back and used his other one to twine with Merlin's. 

"Hmm?" Merlin was now placing soft kisses along Arthur's jaw, and Arthur had to fight hard (har) with himself (double har) to keep his hand on Merlin’s back from digging in and pulling Merlin into a kiss and forgetting the deposition and fucking him senseless into next week. 

But he couldn't. 

"Merlin." Arthur pulled Merlin by the back of his shirt, ignoring the spit-shine of his lips, the way he wriggled purposefully on Arthur's lap, and especially the effect that wriggling had on Arthur. "You know that the second I'm done I'll come find you." 

Merlin licked his lips. Arthur's hand did dig into the back of Merlin's neck then, but instead of kissing the whining out of him and bending him right over the massive desk, Arthur buried his face in Merlin's neck and let out an embarrassing laugh-sob combination. 

"But I'll die, Arthur," Merlin whispered into Arthur's nape, breath warm and ticklish, "I'll die without your gorgeous cock." Merlin kissed at Arthur's neck again, soft barely-there presses of his lips, and Arthur's resolve began to crumble, but not enough to not realize how ridiculous Merlin was being. "It'll only take five minutes, Arthur, please," He said between kisses.

Wait. What?

Arthur tugged on Merlin's shirt again and looked at him this time, feeling just a bit offended, and judging by Merlin's faux-innocent smirk (it's how he got Arthur in the first place, the faker), he knew exactly what he was doing. 

"Really, Merlin? Five minutes?" 

Merlin shrugged. 

The deposition lay forgotten as Arthur grabbed both of Merlin's wrists in his hand, holding them between their torsos, while his other hand snaked around Merlin's waist and held him tight. 

"You think it’ll take five minutes for me to kiss you breathless, then to kiss down your jaw and neck and bite at that spot on your shoulder you like so much?"

Merlin opened his mouth to talk, but Arthur dug his fingers into his side. "You think five minutes is enough for me to then strip you slowly, still kissing and licking every single inch of your body, just the way you like it?"

Merlin was panting, squirming in Arthur's lap, trying to free his hands. "No? Then how about for sucking your cock til your knees buckle and you’re screaming my name so loud the neighbours can hear?" Merlin let out a groan and began rubbing his legs together, tiny moans escaping his lips. 

"And then I finally bend you over the desk and eat you out until you’re so fucking loose I can slide in without anything. Will five minutes be enough for that?" Arthur asked directly into Merlin’s ear, biting at his lobe. "I wouldn’t want you to _die_ , Merlin. Will it be enough?"

Merlin’s body shook as he came untouched. 

Arthur chuckled. "Not dead after all, then."

* * *

**61.**

“ _What?_ ”

“No. No _way._ ”

“ _Here?_ With… _Why?_

Merlin and Arthur exchanged horrified looks, then immediately jerked away to sever eye contact, staring everywhere but at each other and renewing their futile attempts to squirm away from the guards who held them in place. Arthur could feel his cheeks burning, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Merlin’s overlarge ears had turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. 

“You can’t make us do this,” he said, glaring up at the dark-haired woman who lounged lazily in the large throne before them.

“Of course I can,” Morgana replied. She was grinning smugly down at the two of them, her hands resting with the palms facing upward on the arms of the stone seat. “I can make you do whatever I want, considering my…” she paused dramatically, “… _leverage_.”

Arthur felt panic stab his gut. “Who do you have? Where are you keeping them?”

“Oh, just a number of knights and innocent civilians. Without your cooperation, I’m afraid their futures look rather… dim,” she said offhandedly, but there was an excited glint in her eye. “I’m afraid their only hope lies with you — or rather, with you lying with Merlin.”

He flinched slightly. His face felt even hotter.

“Come now. Stop being such _babies_. You two—” she made a waving gesture with her hands, as though sweeping them towards each other, “—have some _business_ to take care of. I’ll say it once more. Fuck _now_ , or watch your friends die.”

“Y-You can’t be serious,” Arthur sputtered. “You’re — I’m the _King_ — and this is — you can’t — Merlin, _help_.”

Merlin didn’t look at him. He appeared to find his bare feet very interesting. “I… Our hands are tied. I don’t think we have another… um, option.”

Arthur stared in disbelief. Before he could retort, Morgana interrupted. “You better get on with it. I don’t have all day. Guards — you can let them go now. I’m sure they’re aware of how delicate their situation is. It would be easy for me to signal my men to… dispose of our other prisoners.”

As the men who had been restraining them stepped away, Arthur felt a sudden hopelessness fall upon him, and judging by the stricken look on Merlin’s face, he was feeling something similar. 

“Um,” he tried, then stopped, scrambling for something, _anything_ he could say. The chamber echoed with the sound of the door closing behind the guards as they exited the room. “A-Are you, um, sure? About this?”

Merlin gave him an incredulous look before going back to staring just to the left of Arthur’s head. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Neither of them made any move to begin. Then, with a sudden burst of determination, he shoved his trousers off, beginning to work at the laces of his tunic. Merlin followed suit, undoing the knot on his neckerchief and starting on his belt. Soon, they were down to their breeches, and soon they lost those, too, shivering in the stone chambers.

Arthur was suddenly very aware of Morgana watching them from her throne. “Do you mind?” he asked, hoping to preserve at least a few scraps of dignity. 

“No,” she answered. She made no move to leave; in fact, she seemed to sit deeper into her chair, as if to emphasize that she was not going anywhere.

With a sigh of defeat, he advanced towards Merlin, who gulped. “Well, um, I guess you can kneel on the floor now,” Arthur said avoiding Merlin’s eyes. “Or, whatever is most comfortable for you.”

Merlin finally looked Arthur in the eye, seeming suspicious and slightly offended. “Why don’t _you_ kneel? That works too.”

“I am _not_ going to get on my hands and knees while you—” he faltered. “I am the King of Camelot.”

“Arthur,” Morgana interrupted sharply. “You get on the floor. You will be the woman. Merlin, take him from behind. You’re the man.”

Arthur sputtered, then stooped down to the floor, silently fuming. He jolted suddenly, feeling Merlin’s slim fingers touch his exposed backside and enter him, preparing him. This was it. This was really happening.

“For Camelot?” Merlin asked from behind him.

“For Camelot,” he grunted. Then Merlin pushed inside, and he saw stars.

* * *

**62.**

Arthur would swear that he could actually hear the violent shudders that wracked his body as he raced back to the car and slammed it behind him. He could hear Merlin’s guffaws grow louder outside and finally Merlin landed with a thud in the passenger side of Arthur’s Gray Prius.

Merlin’s laughter turned into a harsh wheezing and if Arthur weren’t so annoyed, he might have become concerned. 

“You know if you don’t take a breath soon, you might actually choke to death.” Arthur chuckled darkly at the irony. “Do you know how ridiculous that would be? The world is ending and how does Merlin Emrys die - from laughing to death. That would be perfect for you.”

Merlin put a hand to his chest and caught his breath. “You know what? It would be worth it. You should have seen the look on your face, Arthur. It was just urine.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Of course Merlin would trivialize it like that and make Arthur seem like the one who overreacted. He had only known Merlin for three days, but it felt like much longer.

A meteor was sent to hit the Earth within seven days and Arthur decided to finally see the world as he had never done before. He even answered someone’s ad on Craig’s List looking for a companion. That person was Merlin.

He cleared his throat and shook his head. “You may be alright with buying some creep’s urine, Merlin but I am not.”

“His _diluted_ urine.” At Arthur’s arched eyebrow Merlin just shrugged. “I think that’s an important distinction.”

“I’ve read that urine has many important nutrients. It can cure cancer. And it can even improve sexual performance.”

Arthur wasn’t sure if he was it was just his imagination or he was projecting, but he could have sworn Merlin leered at him. His mouth went dry. He gulped and leaned forward to fiddle with the knob on the car radio. “We haven’t listened to any news reports in a while.”

Arthur could barely hear what the reporter was saying amongst the unusual amount of static. “...it’s coming at a far greater pace than all the scientists predicted. Through some telescopes you can actually see the meteorite make its descent. Despite the deadly consequences it is quite a beautiful sight. If you have any loved ones I suggest-”

Merlin snapped the radio shut.

Arthur tried to control his breathing, but it was too difficult so he pulled over at the side of the road. It was really happening. His last vestiges of denial slipped away. This was it. These could be his last moments on Earth. 

Merlin placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

When Arthur turned to him he could see Merlin’s chin tremble. For the first time he looked terrified, but there was still such strength and hope in his eyes. “Just because this is really happening, doesn’t mean there’s no hope.”

There were so many things he wanted to do. He wanted to scream at Merlin for still being so naive. Being optimistic solved nothing. It just made everything hurt worse. But he looked into Merlin’s eyes and the only thing he wanted was to be buried inside of Merlin. If this was it the last thing he wanted to see and feel was Merlin.

He launched himself forward and pressed his lips to Merlin’s in a tender kiss.

Merlin’s lips were just as soft and supple as Arthur had imagined. 

“Backseat.” Arthur gritted out. His self-control was slipping faster by the second.

Arthur swiftly managed to get over into the backseat. But Merlin did not have such an easy time of it. His gangly limbs got stuck in between the seats and he landed awkwardly face first into Arthur’s crotch.

“Can’t wait to get started, can we?” Arthur teased.

Merlin looked up and grinned. Then he slowly lowered his head and mouthed at Arthur’s clothed crotch, which was harder than Arthur could ever remember.

Arthur groaned and arched against the seat.

For someone clumsy, Merlin deftly managed to unzip Arthur jeans and gets his leg out from between the seats. His mouth engulfed Arthur’s cock seconds later. He took him down to the root.

This was better than Arthur could have ever imagined. Heat pooled in his belly and he felt like his skin was on fire. He heard Merlin gag but Merlin kept on going as he gripped the base of Arthur’s cock. 

Merlin slides his mouth off of Arthur with an obscene pop. He leaned his body back, and even though he hit the back of the front seat quickly he managed to take his pants off. 

Merlin prepares himself and soon has impaled himself on Arthur’s cock. 

Arthur moans. “God, Merlin you’re so tight.” 

He rocks forward slowly. He grips Arthur’s shoulders tightly as his pace picks up speed. Merlin flings his head backwards.

Arthur grips Merlin’s ass and shudders as he can’t hold back and comes inside Merlin. He comes and doesn’t think he’s ever going to stop. 

As Arthur comes down from his high, Merlin grins at him. “Looks like the world hasn’t ended yet. What do you want to do now?”

Arthur grins. “Keep fucking.”

* * *

**63.**

There’s a cardboard box under the bed. It has a layer of dust on the lid, decorated by dried blotches of blood that stand out like nauseating reminders of their mortality. Brushing some of the dust away, Arthur settles on his knees on the floor, thumb pushing at the edge of the letters written in black sharpie:

_this box is me if I can’t be_

Arthur rubs the spot between his eyebrows, pressing his eyes closed for a moment before he takes off the lid. He lets out a surprised laugh, strange and unfamiliar, at the sight of the cassette tapes and an old Walkman. Those things were obsolete decades before the war even happened, let alone now.

His amusement dies as abruptly as it came when he looks at the labels of the tapes.

_lost you in the crowd today_

He doesn’t want to listen to that, because he remembers the day they got separated in the chaos better than any fucking day in his life.

So he starts on the next one instead, running his fingers over the backs of the tapes knowing Merlin was the last person who touched them.

&&

“ _I always knew I’d end up talking to myself_.” Merlin sounds amused. His voice is light and Arthur can hear the smile in it. “ _But it feels like I’m talking to you, anyway, even if it’s really just me. And I’ve always felt like I could talk to you, even back when I thought you were a fucking tool._ ”

Arthur hates everything. He hates the world and his life and the vague feeling of a higher power he once believed in before all this shit fucked them all over.

“ _Some people just work together. It’s like when you use pen with paper – they’re two different things but they work, and they serve a purpose and it makes sense._ ” The tape scratches. “ _I mean, I’m the pen, obviously, because I’m sleek and I create things. You’re paper because you’re flat and tasteless._ ”

Laughing feels hollow.

&&

“ _Elena came by today. I don’t know if I can explain how good it was to see someone, to talk to them about memories. Because I have to remind myself that they are, in fact, memories and not things I made up. She still smells good._ ”

There’s a rustling on the tape, as if Merlin had moved. 

“ _Remember when we came home from that trip to your dad’s once? When I made noodle soup and you told me you thought astronaut was the most overrated profession._ ”

He doesn’t. But he remembers when they went to the beach and Merlin got tangled in seaweed. He remembers the sun and the way Merlin snorted when he laughed too hard.

&&

“ _I miss you so much. Fuck you. And fuck them. And fuck me for not holding your hand tight enough, and for not knowing where to look for you._ ”

&&

The feeling of blood filling his cock, making his head rush and his spine tingle, is a sensation he hasn’t paid attention to in a while. But he’s acutely aware of it now, as if feeling it for the first time, when he listens to Merlin’s panting breath on the tape.

He can hear the slick sounds of Merlin’s hand on his cock, knowing exactly the pace Merlin likes – the steady strokes of his hand and the way he curls his fingers over the head.

Closing his eyes, he listens to Merlin whispering his name and the breathy sighs he lets out as the bed creaks.

“ _Miss your lips on my neck. The way you’d laugh at my squirming and then hold me down, knowing how much I love it even if I pretend I don’t. Miss your thighs and your arms, miss holding onto them when you fuck me. Fuck. Arthur, why the fuck is this happening?_ ”

&&

“ _Elena says the area’s not safe anymore. They know about it. So I’m going. But these tapes are me. Right now, if you listen to them, I’m here. For you. But if you want to find the rest of me, I’m following Elena to the barricades in Mercia. We’ve heard they’ve been most successful. So come. If you found these. If not..._ ”

Arthur looks at the Walkman.

“ _No. You found these._ ”

* * *

**64.**

Arthur finds the abandoned car half-hidden in a copse of trees on the side of a dirt road.

He hesitates, glancing around as though someone will pop out to point a gun at his head or drive a knife into his gut. It wouldn't be the first time that's happened, and Arthur isn't keen to repeat the experience.

Nobody appears, and Arthur adjusts the rucksack slung over his shoulders before taking a cautious step forward. The sun is beginning to set, and sleeping in a car sounds like heaven compared to another night on the cold ground.

He uses his bag as a pillow and falls asleep with one hand wrapped around his knife.

*

Arthur dreams.

*

He's in a field, and in front of him stands a man. His hair is black as coal and his eyes flicker between blue and hot, burning gold. Both of them are naked and hard, but Arthur feels no shame.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"Emrys," the man answers. "It's time to save the world, Arthur."

Arthur laughs, bitter. "Haven't you noticed? The world has already ended."

"Something worse is coming," Emrys says.

The words burrow under Arthur's skin, the truth of them digging deep into the darkest parts of him. "Maybe there is," he says. "But what can I do about it?"

Emrys' eyes flicker once more and settle on gold. He doesn't answer in words, stepping forward and pressing his mouth to Arthur's. Arthur immediately falls into it, parting his lips for more, reaching out to pull Emrys against him.

They end up on the grass, Emrys rising above him and then sinking down, taking Arthur's cock deep inside. Arthur groans, and the air around Emrys shifts and shivers, until two huge black wings are rising up from his shoulders, a deep, burnished gold shimmering along the feathers.

Emrys rides him hard, slamming himself down over and over, fingers digging into Arthur's chest as he keeps himself steady. Arthur can't do anything except hold on, gripping Emrys' hips so tightly he imagines he's leaving bruises.

Arthur feels like he's burning from the inside, fire licking at his veins, pleasure so overwhelming he feels his eyes begin to sting. The tight heat surrounding his cock is too much, too much, and he grits his teeth as he tries to hold off just a little bit longer.

"Who are you really?" Arthur forces out, and Emrys' golden eyes lock onto his.

"Merlin," he says, and he comes, tightening almost painfully around Arthur. His wings tremble and curve until they're covering both of them, and all Arthur can see is black and gold.

Arthur follows him over, body arching as he cries out, the world blurring and fading until he's nowhere and nothing.

*

Arthur wakes with his own knife at his throat and a gun to his head. He stares up at the man straddling his hips – at the messy black hair and clear blue eyes – and has a single moment of clarity.

"You!" he gasps. "I dreamt of you!"

The man rears back, clearly startled, but the memory is already fading. Arthur frowns, trying to grasp at it, but it slips through his consciousness like water.

"What's your name?" the man asks suspiciously, and his voice sends a shiver of want down Arthur's spine.

"Arthur," he answers, sitting up and shifting closer to the door. He holds his hands out, placating. "What's yours?"

The man hesitates before saying, "Merlin."

The name niggles at something in Arthur's mind, but whatever it is remains just out of reach.

"Nice to meet you, Merlin. Can I please have my knife back?"

Merlin scowls. "How do I know you won't gut me as soon as I hand it over?"

"How do I know you won't put a bullet in my head?"

Merlin's scowl doesn't fade, but he does glance at his gun before flipping the knife and handing it back to Arthur handle first. Arthur takes it and makes a show of tucking it into his boot, eyes never leaving Merlin's. After a moment, Merlin shoves his gun into the back of his filthy looking jeans.

"I have some apples and cheese in my rucksack. There's enough for two if you'd like to share?"

Merlin's eyes light up and he glances hungrily at the bag before looking back at Arthur. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

As they eat, Arthur stares out the dirty car window at the ash-grey sky, and thinks: _something worse is coming_.

* * *

**65.**

“We need back up. Emrys is down. I repeat. Emrys is down,” Gwaine’s voice comes through the comm link. “The scumbags are running away through fire escape.”

“Team gamma, move in. Delta, block the escapes,” Arthur orders, rushing out of the hotel room that has been serving as their base during the operation. “Green , status report.”

“They injected him with something. He’s conscious but unable to stand. Seems to be in pain.”

Arthur runs down the stairs. Three levels before he bursts into the right hallway. 

“Clear,” he hears the gamma team leader shout.

Entering the room, he doesn’t waste any more time and lands on his knees beside Merlin. One look at him and he knows. And even if he couldn’t see, the smell is unmistakable. 

“We have three captured, one of them injured. The fourth is dead,” leader of delta team announces.

“Arthur,” Merlin whimpers, his eyes unfocused.

“I’m here,” he says and checks Merlin for any visible wounds. “Well done,” he adds to the comm. “Knock them out and wait for further orders.”

He knows there’s only one cure for Merlin’s current condition.

“Everyone out!” he yells.

-xxx-

“I knew it was a bad idea,” Arthur mutters to himself, carrying Merlin, trembling and moaning in pain, towards the only bed in the room. “But no, you had to do it. You had to. For the good of all the omegas who suffer because of those bastards and that damn heat serum.”

“I’m never ever again letting you go undercover,” he grumbles, stripping Merlin out of his jeans. “And don’t you dare die on me! Just because they overdosed you doesn’t mean you can give up.”

“Please,” Merlin whines, his eyes unfocused and wet with tears.

He tries to reach for Arthur but misses, his hand falling limply back to his side.

“I know, I know. Almost there,” Arthur soothes, kicking off his own trousers. 

There’s no time for perfection. He rolls Merlin onto his side and pushes two fingers against his opening. They slide in easily, more and more slick oozing out in time with the spasms of Merlin’s body. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Arthur whispers, breathing in the scent of his omega’s heat, his cock stiffening into full hardness. 

Merlin sobs through another wave of pain and Arthur pushes in, setting a frantic rhythm right from the beginning. For the first time in his life, he misses his teenage lack of stamina.

-xxx-

His knot expanding, he ruts into Merlin’s tight heat. He comes with a load moan, pressing himself even closer to Merlin while his cock continues to spurt.

Merlin’s moans never cease, but pain is no longer their cause. Wrapping his hand around Merlin’s cock, Arthur begins to stroke, hard and swift, almost brutal in his need to drag Merlin to his orgasm.

Merlin cries out and spills all over Arthur’s hand. Clenching around Arthur’s cock, he prompts him to fill his insides even more.

-xxx-

He’s exhausted and sore from knotting Merlin five times already, his cock dribbling last drops of come into Merlin’s channel.

“Please, let it be enough,” he murmurs into Merlin’s hair.

-xxx-

After the shortest report in history of the agency (“Both well. Requesting heat leave.”), they move to a fresh room. Running on last bits of energy, they shower together, leaning on each other for support, and finally curl together for some much needed sleep.

* * *

**66.**

The stone floor of the cave is cold and hard under Arthur, the pain shooting through his kneecaps the only emotion he can identify clearly. The voices from their captors barely reach him through the overwhelming haze of the magic working in his system.

“He will take you.” He hears the sneering, the laughter. Malicious and cruel. “Let’s see how the great King of Camelot is panting like a dog in heat to bugger his Court Sorcerer into tomorrow.”

And he is: he’s the King of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Dragonslayer, married to Guinevere Pendragon, and he’s on his knees panting like a dog in heat because his skin is burning with the need to touch Merlin, to get more of him. Get more of his best friend, the one he has desired for years but has denied instead, because they can’t—but he can, he can, right now, with Merlin chained to the ground as he is, his powerful hands trapped in manacles repressing his magic, and Arthur is helpless. He’s heady with want, his cock is hot and hard and throbbing with need, and he hears their catcalls as he nuzzles, erratically, his way up the shaking line of the inside of Merlin’s leg. Merlin’s balls are soft and rough as Arthur laps over them with his tongue, as he helplessly, mindlessly, seeks out the dark secret place of Merlin further behind, the one he’s dreamt of, dreamt of touching, seeing, feeling—

“Look how desperate he is,” a coarse voice says, amused. From the corner of his eye, Arthur sees someone raise their hand, and the magic curls inside him, tightens, makes the insanity of the bottmless want boiling in his guts hotter, hotter. He growls with it and grits his teeth, nose buried in between Merlin’s arse cheeks. “This lil’ spell only shows what he really wants. It reveals his most base desires—his instincts, if you will. Our mighty King is a cocksucker. Loves being on his knees. Loves tasting the arsehole of his Sorcerer.”

Arthur does, fuck, he does—he can’t not, can’t not because they’ll kill Merlin if he won’t, and because he’ll kill himself if he won’t use this opportunity now that he has it. He’d have wanted it on a proper bed, preferably not out of his mind, and with Merlin’s consent—but he’s got this now, and it’s the only time, and he’ll use it. He’ll use it because Merlin’s responding after all, because after Arthur’s licked his arsehole pliant and loose and dripping he’s lapping at the spaces in between Merlin’s fingers and Merlin’s murmuring to him, murmuring, “It’s okay, I want this, want you,” lowly, only for Arthur to hear, because it’s what he needs to hear. Needs to know it’s okay like this, okay to do this, because if it’s not Arthur won’t ever forgive himself.

The relief doesn’t last long. The whip comes down a fourth time on his naked back, the sweat burning infernally in his open wounds, and Arthur bares his teeth in a grimace as he raises himself on his palms over Merlin. Merlin’s pale and shivering beneath him as Arthur opens him up, burns his way into Merlin’s tight sheath—pushes himself inside, where Merlin welcomes him, where Merlin wants him, and Arthur lowers himself to take Merlin’s mouth in a bruising kiss. To taste all the little “ah-ah-ah”s on his tongue that his cock fucks out of Merlin’s guts, to drag his thumb over the dirty arc of Merlin’s cheekbone as he pounds his desire, his need, his everything, against Merlin’s rear, mindless with it, stupid with it, helpless, helpless, hissing, “ _Mer_ lin,” as he bites into that seductive long line of Merlin’s neck, whispering, “I’m sorry,” over the sounds of their laughter as they watch the great King of Camelot on his knees screwing his sorcerer like a bitch in heat—as he raises himself on his legs and brushes his large hands down Merlin’s sides, over his fluttering belly, to close around his slim hips, raising him up, holding him there with his strong arms—and shoving him back, back onto his cock, and as Arthur roars out his release, the magic pounds inside his skull and veins and _works_ , reveals Arthur the way he is, and he sobs, “I love you, I love you,” bitterly, honestly, humiliated, but not wanting to be anywhere else but here.

* * *

**67.**

Merlin has never been this afraid. All he’s ever wanted was to blend in, stay unnoticed.

“I won’t let them take you,” Arthur says, fierce.

The concern in his eyes makes Merlin’s heart swell with love. He knows his brother would do _anything_ to protect him, but—

“Even you cannot defy the council.” —he doesn’t dare hope.

“No, I cannot,” Arthur acknowledges, “But what I can do, to save you from being another senseless sacrifice...”

Merlin lifts his head, looks straight at Arthur.

His brother means to take his virginity away.

They’ve kissed chastely when they were young boys, but... this is different. _Real_.

***

The lights are turned down, setting the room with a dim glow. Arthur grasps his wrist and pulls him, gently, to the side of the bed.

“Tonight, I’ll make you a man,” he says, his voice hoarse.

Merlin nods. His cheeks are burning, he knows it. They’ve talked about this like it’s a necessity, and it is, but he _wants_ it—wants his brother. Wants to see the flush of his skin as he’s aroused, his eyes as they darken with desire, his cock, oh fuck, his cock, as it stiffens and peeks out of its hood.

(He’s seen it, once, when Arthur had fucked a serving boy years ago and left his door carelessly unlocked.)

Arthur helps him unlace his tunic. His fingers brush at his collarbone, warm and trembling.

Merlin looks up. Arthur’s eyes are hot on him, intense, like he wants Merlin just as much.

The tunic slips over his head, and his chest feels bare in the cold of the room. His nipples stiffen, and Arthur’s eyes drop to them, his eyes feeling like a hot caress.

He reaches out to rub one, gently, then tweak it. Merlin shivers, makes a soft sound.

“Fuck,” Arthur whispers, “You’re so sensitive.” He pushes Merlin on the bed and then lowers his head, licking at one, swirling his tongue around it. Then the other. It’s too much, and Merlin fidgets, curling his toes.

“So hot in my mouth,” Arthur says, “little brother.” The reminder makes Merlin blush. It’s _wrong_ , even if they only share a father, though it doesn’t make him want Arthur any less. 

They start to kiss, and Merlin’s mouth opens under Arthur’s. He uses his tongue, sloppy and without any finesse, but it seems to affect Arthur because he moans once, deep and low in his throat. Arthur stops to fumble at their breeches, fingers clumsy, and Merlin helps, pulling and pulling until the laces break.

There he is, cock fat and flushed, nestled in coarse, blonde hair. Merlin stares, transfixed, as Arthur reaches for a pot of salve.

He’s prepared with Arthur’s thick, blunt fingers, pressing in and slicking his hole, efficient but gentle. It’s not enough; he wants Arthur inside him, and he tells him so in a voice that sounds shamefully needy to his ears.

“My brother, so hot for my cock, what would the council think?” Arthur murmurs, teasing. Then he grips himself in a hand, aligns himself, and sinks down slowly till he’s balls-deep in Merlin’s arse.

 _This is it_ , Merlin thinks in hazy pleasure, his brother thrusting deep into him. He’ll be safe now, now that he’s no longer able to be a suitable sacrifice. The council will have to find someone else from another family as a gift to appease the dragon. He groans as Arthur comes inside him in warm spurts, and they both reach between them to bring him off.

***

“What do you mean he cannot be a sacrifice?” Uther snarls.

“He is no longer a virgin, and the gods _must_ have a virgin,” one of the elders says, his voice brooking no argument. “We must give the Pendragon girl.”

Uther’s face crumples. Merlin gasps, wondering. It is known that there are only two blood children, the crown prince and the bastard son, born of a lowly peasant woman.

“Morgana must take his place.”

The court is caught in shocked silence. The king’s ward. 

A sob echos in the hall as she falls to her feet. Merlin cannot help but feel relieved, and then after, the guilt that he can be this callous.

* * *

**68.**

A simple question whispered among women washing in the river, 'Do you think the king's lack of heirs means we've fallen out of favour with the Gods?', turns into an epidemic of fear. Soon everything bad that happens is blamed on their king.

Arthur, the king they'd hailed as a gift from their Sun God, has now become their curse.

They whisper, "Arthur lies with that Dragon Keeper. Are the Gods telling us it's unnatural for men to lie together?"

"Maybe the Gods are angry with me," Arthur says, resting his head in Merlin's lap, late at night in their bed.

"Don't," Merlin says, petting the blond, shiny hair that sets Arthur apart from everyone, the sign he'd been born of the sun.

"What do the dragons say?"

'You love-sick fool! Don't fear your power - it's your destiny!'

"They say you're a brave warrior and a noble king."

"Then why is this happening?"

"Maybe..." Merlin thinks of Gwen, the frightened, unwed daughter of a knight, who the healer had confided in him was early on with child. "We can present a woman, already with child and claim it -"

"No. I won't lie to my people."

'No, you wouldn't. But I would for you.'

The next day, Merlin's tending to the dragons when a black spot creeps over the sun. It's unusual, scary, and he knows what the people will think, what sacrifices they'll make for their Gods.

Merlin runs towards the city, the power in him vibrating from panic. When he sees Arthur on an altar, untied, willing to die for his people, it explodes from his hands in a ball of sizzling, white light. It hits the priest standing over Arthur with a dagger and turns him into a pile of ash.

It madness then, people, including Arthur shouting, looking at Merlin with fear.

Merlin doesn't know what he's going to say, until he says it. "As Arthur is from the Sun, I am from the Moon. Your king is not cursed.

"He - he - do you expect a child of the sun to bear children like a mortal? Arthur and I are destined to mate - the children of the Sun and Moon and the Gods..." He looks around for Gwen and sees her standing with her father. "The Gods will bless us with a child."

Merlin approaches Arthur with his head bowed. "My King, I'm yours."

Arthur doesn't move, doesn't seem to understand they need to show the people that Merlin and his power serve the king, not the other way around. They need ritual. He removes Arthur's skirt, leaving the king naked. He kneels and rubs his palms with oil from a vial in his pouch. Despite Arthur's apparent shock, he grows hard as Merlin wets his cock with it.

Only soft murmurs from the crowd can be heard around them. Merlin stands, whispering, "Arthur, trust me," and he's not sure why Arthur does, but he turns Merlin, pushes him against the altar, and lifts his skirt. Merlin feels oil dripping over his hole before he even realises that Arthur had taken it from him. It makes him hard. Arthur says in his ear, "I think you've gone mad, but I'm curious as to how this ends." Merlin laughs and Arthur slides his cock in.

It's difficult to think with Arthur pounding into him, but the spot on the sun shrinks and Merlin thinks maybe the dragons had been right. Maybe this is what the Gods want.

Arthur's rhythm falters and Merlin spreads his legs, lets him in further, flexing his muscles until Arthur stills and quietly spills his seed inside of him. Merlin stands and presses against Arthur's chest, stroking himself with firm, quick strokes as Arthur holds him. He comes hard, spilling his seed on the altar. Then breathless and tired, but determined, Merlin calls up his power again. A ball of light rises from the altar. "Our seed is now one," he shouts, "the Gods will choose a vessel to carry our child." The ball hovers and then flies over to Gwen, into her stomach. She gasps. The crowd gasps and points to the sky where the sun is complete again.

Before Merlin can speak, Arthur steps forward, holds his hands up to the sky. "Thank the Gods!"

The crowd cheers. Merlin can see the reverence in their eyes once again. He looks at Gwen, she's smiling, tears in her eyes. He looks at Arthur, who is looking at him with worship and Merlin truly feels like a god.

* * *

**69.**

Though clouds now blocked out most of the ravaged sky, she stood at the edge of the rampart, staring out over the desolate landscape as if the world wasn’t awash in red and gray. No wind rustled the hem of her torn dress. It had died when the last man fell. Broken stone crackled beneath Uther’s boot as he stepped closer, but if she heard, she gave no sign.

“Surveying your kingdom, Morgana?”

Her sole reaction was a twitch in her proud jaw. “Aren’t you dead yet?”

“Because you haven’t slaughtered enough men today?” Uther clicked his tongue in censure. “You really must learn to recognize when enough is enough. You’ll hardly be an effective ruler if you don’t.”

That finally broke her stasis. As she whirled around, her eyes flashed gold. “This is all your fault, you know. If you’d yielded—”

“A good king never yields!” The anger he’d barely held in check throughout the battles snapped. He shocked both of them by trapping her wrists in one hand, using the surprise to whip her around and pin her against the stone with his body. “Look at what your arrogance has created, Morgana. This destruction. This death. You allowed this to happen by bringing magic into Camelot.”

He expected her to fight. After all, that was what she’d done ever since marching into the city with Cenred’s army at her command. She’d never given up, not when the undead revolted, not when spell after spell had destroyed what she’d sought to gain. As far as he could tell, they were the last survivors, but he would die with her if that was what it took to end this madness.

Instead, a shudder wracked through the flesh so intimately pressed to his, and a wounded cry tore from her throat. It devastated his reckonings, loosening the lock of his hands. His instincts wanted to console her. All he could do was bend and brush a kiss across the side of her neck.

Morgana froze. He knew he should let her go. She’d made her feelings for him perfectly clear.

But just as he thought he knew she’d fight, he was wrong about this, too.

She twisted in his arms. Gone was her fury, in its stead an anguish he recognized all too well. A flush crept down her neck, staining the swell of her breasts in a pink too seductive to resist.

His second kiss was at the hollow of her throat. Her whimper reverberated into his lips.

Too much. His next kiss fused their mouths together, tongues dipping into hot crevices that made his cock ache. Morgana clung to him, but as she coiled her leg around his, better nestling the line of his erection against her pussy, her nails raked along his back.

Uther hissed. His riposte was a bite at her lower lip, a thrust against her hips that made them both moan. He wanted only one thing, to sink into her wet flesh as he’d desired for too long. No one was left to judge him.

Even if there were, he was still king and Morgana powerful enough to destroy whoever might stop them.

He shoved her dress out of his way at the same time she freed him from his trousers. One thrust, and he was sheathed, her cunt as exquisitely tight as he’d ever dreamed. He didn’t want to move and shatter the bliss of that moment, but when Morgana squirmed against him, impatient and hungry, Uther had no choice but to obey her unspoken demand.

His balls stung from the rough slap of his strokes. Grace was gone, feral need all that remained. Morgana gave no indication she noticed, gasping between vicious kisses, shuddering when he slipped a hand between their bodies to pinch and pull at her clit. It took mere moments for her to scream, her body contracting so tightly around him he thought he’d snap.

He came on the second thrust after, incapable of lasting any longer, unwilling to let her go once his orgasm subsided. He stayed inside, his come dripping around his shaft to wet her thighs with more than her juices, and buried his face in her neck.

Her lips found his ear. “I could kill you now, you know.”

He smiled. “You won’t.”

“And why is that?”

His lips moved against her skin. She would wear his words as his vow until the time came for more.

“Because a good king also needs his queen.”

* * *

**70.**

They let the barriers down for a boy, picking his way through the empty streets, alone. He only shrugged when they asked where he came from; not that many safe places left.

Arthur first saw him in the mess hall. The boy had plopped his tray down next to his. 

"I'm Merlin," the boy had declared and Arthur had agreed. 

From then on, Merlin had taken to following him around, having refused to go to the makeshift school for the other children. He came along when Arthur was on guard duty, and invited himself to Arthur's cramped room at the end of the day.

"I wasn't always this young," Merlin told him, inanely, and Arthur blew smoke rings in his face.

"Whatever kid."

It's not that he disliked Merlin, because he didn't. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, even if he was half Arthur's age. It was that sometimes Merlin looked at him like he knew more about him than even Arthur knew.

"We would be a great team in the field," Merlin said, swinging his arm through the air like a weapon. "Side-by-side, defeating the enemy." He made explosion sound effects.

Arthur kicked him gently in the side, where Merlin was sprawled across his bed. "Like brothers?"

Merlin frowned at him. "Not like brothers."

Arthur laughed, making Merlin scowl.

The next day Arthur took Merlin to the practice field, teaching him rifle, revolver, semi-automatic, right hook, block, left jab. They were both tired and bruised by curfew, but the aching twinge in Arthur's chest eased.

"I feel like I've known you for a very long time, but I've only just now found you," Merlin whispered to him one night into the hollow of his neck. Arthur shut his eyes, his dreams presenting themselves: chainmail, a sword, the lake, Merlin crying, his face older, golden-eyed. He pulled Merlin in tighter.

The leaders wanted to move camp, but some disagreed. Arthur paid no notice. He had no one left out there, no one to care for. Well, almost. 

Merlin sidled up to him as the talks ended, slipping a hand into his. "I'll never leave you," he said fiercely, and Arthur could only nod, holding tight.

Sometimes Arthur got confused and caught flashes of Merlin with long, lithe limbs and broad shoulders, but then he blinked and Merlin was a gawky teenager again, too skinny. 

He _wasn't_ confused, merely drunk, when Merlin pressed him into a wall and kissed him after a night of drinking away his thoughts at the pub.

"Merlin," he gasped, pushing him away. Merlin scowled and pouted.

Arthur brought him back to his room. "How old are you anyway?" he asked, refusing to sit next to Merlin on the bed. 

Merlin crossed his arms. "Sixteen in a month." Arthur looked away and swallowed. 

"It's just that-" Merlin came closer to him, touching his hand. "I don't feel fifteen. I feel like I've known you forever, and I'm tired. I'm tired of living for centuries and just loving you and only you." His voice cracked as he touched Arthur's face.

Arthur shook his head. "You can't," he said weakly. "We don't-"

"You get them too, don't you?" Merlin asked, his voice broken. "The dreams."

Arthur dug his fingernails into his palm. In his dreams he loved Merlin fiercely, more than he did now, and physically, with kisses and bite marks and writhing beneath the sheets.

"Merlin," he said softly, and Merlin kissed him. Arthur let him, let him tilt his head down and explore his mouth gently with his tongue. Let him pull on Arthur's shirt, fingers scrabbling at the hem before Arthur could take it off. 

Merlin was gasping, leaving sloppy, wet kisses at his neck, frantic. Arthur pushed him towards the bed, laying him down and shushing his noises of protest before he stripped off Merlin's shirt, kissing down his chest, seeing stretches of muscle in one blink and a pale skinny chest in the next. Merlin mewled against him as he licked over his flat stomach, stopping to unbutton his jeans and ease them over his hips.

Merlin was half sobbing under his hands as Arthur mouthed at his hard cock through his briefs, whimpering when Arthur gripped him in long pulls. 

"I came back for you," he choked out, before tipping, keening, over the edge and spilling over Arthur's hand. Arthur held him, after, gripping too tight, nose buried in Merlin's hair, whispering, "I've got you," and "I'm here," and "I've missed you, Merlin, god I've missed you."

* * *

**71.**

“Look on the bright side,” said Merlin. “At least there hasn’t been any _anal probing_.”

His voice was low, his head ducked down so they wouldn’t notice he was talking. Under ordinary circumstances Gwen might have laughed. 

“Well,” he went on, “not _yet_ , anyway.”

Gwen had asked the other abductees – the other prisoners – and two things she knew with relative certainty:

1) None of them had actually seen the aliens.

2) Merlin had been onboard the ship longer than anyone.

They’d woken up together maybe half an hour earlier in one of the testing chambers, naked – they’re always naked – and bound at the wrists with invisible shackes. They were in the middle of a circle of empty space which – they had discovered through industrious knee-walking – they could not leave lest they be shocked. They got shocked for standing up. They got shocked for talking too long or too loudly. When one of them got a shock, they both got a shock.

Gwen’d gotten pretty familiar with the rules.

The lights in the room went up, and Merlin jerked, his back arching. 

They all had an implant, but only Merlin’s was affixed to the top of his spine, and only Merlin’s allowed for communication with the aliens. He said he thought he was the subject of an ongoing experiment on the human nervous system. Gwen privately thought that, since Merlin was himself so oddly otherworldly and alien, he might just have been the only one they _could_ communicate with.

“Oh, no,” he said, “oh, no no no…” The clutch of the shackles fell away. 

“What do they want us to do?”

He swallowed. “They want to study human – I don’t know, _mating practices_.”

Gwen stared at him. “You mean they want us to fuck?” she blurted out.

“I guess, yeah.” His breathing was speeding up. The aliens had a direct line into his brain. She’d seem them flood his system with adrenaline and endorphins before; how hard could arousal be to achieve?

For about half a minute he writhed and the noises that dropped from his lips sounded pained. Then they got the right cocktail of hormones flowing and his body snaped taut again. Gwen counted maybe five desperate breaths before he was hard.

“No,” he gritted out, “please, I won’t, I –”

A shocked jarred through them both. Gwen tried to breathe through it.

“I’m sorry.” Merlin was shaking harder than ever. “Gwen, I’m sorry –”

“It’s okay.” Gwen reached for him, cupped his face in her hands, pushed her body against his. “It’s okay, We have to do it. We don’t have a choice.”

The aliens did not shock them again; probably they thought the touching Gwen was doing part of the ‘human mating process’, so she took advantage of that, took a few moments to calm Merlin down.

They couldn’t make her aroused, or else they didn’t want to, but whatever they’ve done to Merlin makes him eager enough to have his fingers up her cunt that it’s not a problem – or maybe he wanted that anyway, Gwen wasn’t sure.

She pressed her face into his neck while he played with her, tried to forget where they were and enjoy the slick drag of his fingers in and out. His cock was jerking against her belly.

He made a frantic noise that thrummed through her where their chests were pressed together, and his fingers were tugged out of her.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Gwen said. “It’s okay, c’mon –” She lifted her hips and sank down onto his cock.

He rutted into her like an animal, arms looped around her waist, breath hot and wet against her shoulder.

Gwen wasn’t sure if she wanted to enjoy this or not. She wanted not to be shocked again – but it was _good_ , the deep slow push of him inside her, his muscles tensing and shaking against her skin as he struggled to control himself. She pushed back, rocking against him, forcing noises out of him that made her stomach clench.

By the time he came inside her, every inch of her skin seemed to be flushed and burning. She wanted to touch herself, but his hands were clutching her hips so hard it almost hurt.

“M’sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Gwen said again. Her thighs were shaking. “Really, it’s okay.”

He kissed her, kissed her like he meant it, like she was the only thing that mattered – but Gwen couldn’t tell if it was real.

* * *

**72.**

The problem with the world ending was that everything was just so _boring_. Power lines down, communications satellites adrift in space, no gas to run the trains or cars… Yeah, sure, sometimes there were the few alien stragglers that decided to hang around and use humans for their main sport, but for the most part trying to eke out an existence on the devastated earth was absolutely tedious.

Aside from risking life and limb to find food, there really wasn't much to do in the day other than look up at the ceiling. Gwaine knew that ceiling inside out by now, had counted all the cracks and even noticed whenever a new one appeared. He was also pretty proud of the one spot on the wall that had a large glob of come still stuck to it. He stared at it whenever he wanted to bask in how awesome his sexual prowess was, which was actually often these days simply because there was nothing else to do.

He startled upright when the heavy door creaked open. Merlin stepped inside and bolted the door to their safe house shut behind him. "I saw one of those aliens using an iPhone!" 

Gwaine grinned at him. "Did you ask to make a call?"

Humorously, Merlin blushed. "No, not using like that. Using like… uh, remember that time Gwen forgot to lock the door to her apartment and we all walked in on her with the phone between her legs?"

That got Gwaine to laugh, probably louder than he had in a long time. The image of an alien with the exact same embarrassed look on its face as Gwen, stammering some sort of explanation of how the phone just _happened_ to fall between her legs and she just _happened_ to not be wearing any underwear… 

Merlin looked more shocked than amused, but that was understandable too. Gwaine opened his arms and motioned Merlin to come sit next to him on the mattress. "So how was your day?"

"Oh, y'know. Raided some abandoned houses. Walked over the corpses of children. Saw an alien masturbating with an iPhone." 

"Sounds fun. I stared at the ceiling all day. I'm dying of boredom." Gwaine waggled his eyebrows at Merlin. "Think we can do something to brighten both our days?"

"Again?"

"Didn't you hear me? I'm _dying_ of boredom. Literally dying. If you don't fuck me, I'll end up dead."

"If we keep fucking this often, I might die instead," Merlin mumbled, but then he shrugged and began stripping his clothes off. "Gotta get that image of the alien out of my head somehow."

"That's the spirit!" Gwaine's clothes joined Merlin's on a pile on the floor. He pulled Merlin into his arms and gave him a proper welcome-home kiss. He wasn't really in any rush to get off. Being bored all the time had taught him the true value of foreplay: more time got wasted.

Honestly, he didn't know how he'd have survived without Merlin. He shuddered to think of how being stranded with Arthur would have gone. Then he started shuddering properly as Merlin moved his kisses a lot further down.

"You know what I miss?" Merlin said suddenly, just before he did anything really interesting with his mouth.

Gwaine groaned. "Porn?"

"No. Lube. I mean, rimming is fine and good, but I'd really like to do this with less friction." At least Merlin did get to the rimming, and he was getting to be a right champion at it. Always made Gwaine feel like he'd be able to shoot buckets of come.

Merlin replaced his tongue with his cock--it was probably the best cock in the world right now, Gwaine thought--and fine, Gwaine didn't shoot quite as high as that spot on the wall but it was still pretty good when he finally climaxed. He kept thrusting back against Merlin until he felt Merlin coming inside him.

That probably killed like half an hour.

Merlin snuggled into Gwaine's embrace and pulled a sheet over them. Gwaine wondered if he should mention the stickiness sliding out of his ass but decided against it. The sheets were already a mess anyway.

"I'm so glad you're here with me," Merlin said. "Honestly, I don't know how I'd have survived without you."

Gwaine tightened the embrace. "I know what you mean."

They lay in silence for a moment.

"Man, I wish we still had that bacon flavored lube."

Merlin burst out laughing, and Gwaine thought that made the day pretty productive.

* * *

**73.**

Since the Purge, there are two types of people: those who are rich enough to own Wards and those devoted to feeding from them. Arthur has always been capable of former, given his family's name, but he's determined to never be the latter. Before he can make an attempt to steer a course for Albion that ends the slavery and find peace, he has to Acquire a Ward.

The thought twists his stomach, thinking of his mother's soft face, and it's why he leaves it to the very last moment.

"The council won't make a move until you have one," Leon says idly. They're watching the bonfires. They last all night, fueled by the heat given off of feeding orgies.

The bonfires keep burning long after he's looked away.

~

He's touring a small town outside of the city, known for their golden rivers, when he finds him. The town is small and half its inhabitants are waiting outside for their turn to feed. An entire town of feeders is rare but rarer still that there are enough Wards to keep such addictions thriving.

Arthur expects to see a feast-house full of Wards.

He only finds one.

Like all Wards, he's blissed out on the power of the feeders need—head tipped back on the table as his body spasms with a pleasure that looks long past the threshold for pain. Unlike any Ward Arthur has ever seen, the leads that flow out of him are bright gold and numerous. Arthur can count at least thirty feeders, many ruddy with their own pleasure—touching each other as they suck eagerly on the Ward's magic.

Arthur finds himself close enough to watch the Wards eyes roll back into his head. He struggles to blink and a faint ring of dark bronze is visible through the sooty fan of his lashes.

"Him," Arthur says. "I'll pay whatever I have to but I will Acquire the rights to this Ward."

There is a flurry and a few protests but the Pendragon name carries enough weight that it only takes a few hours for Wards from the slaughter houses to be brought in as replacements. It is dark by the time the last feeder is weened.

"His name?" Arthur asks when the room is clear of strangers. Only Leon, the Ward and himself remain.

"They call him Emrys," Leon says with a smile before he leaves. "Ambitious but not ridiculous, I don't think."

The Ward is still writhing, pleasure from feeding leaving him rung-out and practically unconscious, making soft noises of protest. Arthur doesn't know how long he has to wait for someone who serves this many feast-house feeders to wake but he feels impatient and uneasy.

"They say Emrys was the Dragonlord that closed the last reign of darkness," a voice says, startling Arthur. He turns to see an old women in the shadows. She has the hollow look of a feeder but softer, worn down. "They say that only Emrys can restore Albion to greatness."

It is a story—merely a fairytale—but one Arthur knows by heart.

"When can I take him home?"

This time, she cackles. "You can _take_ him, Arthur Pendragon, when you give him more pleasure than a feeder's spyre."

He does not have time to be gentle.

She leaves after Arthur snarls, settling knobbly knees into the crooks of his elbows. Emrys is pretty enough and Arthur is ashamed of how hard his cock is, already jutting and ready to bury itself inside such a willing body.

He feels sick but Emrys arches, his body soft and opening to the length of Arthur's cock and the pleasure that whips through them both drives Arthur's hips forward.

It's an addiction in itself, the soft give of his mouth and then the jerk of reality that Arthur can see forcing itself into the Ward's body by way of opening him up, fucking deeper until all Emrys will feel is the pleasure of a fuck, instead of a feeder's spyre.

One violation for another.

Emrys screams, body shocked and glowing gold for the roughest of Arthur's thrusts.

For the first time since his mother's death, Arthur feels the pleasure of magic reaching out instead of being gutted out and the thought sends him spending inside of Emrys with jerks of his hips. When Arthur opens his eyes, Emrys' belly is painted with his own come and Arthur finds himself staring into eyes no longer clouded by a feeder's loop.

"Mine," he claims but he means, _For Albion_.

* * *

**74.**

They were sent out to investigate reports of attacks in the forest after villagers came to the court screaming about a monster with endless limbs. That’s how Lancelot finds himself tangled in the vines of a huge plant which rose from the undergrowth and attacked.

He twists and fights to get away but the thing pulls his sword from his grasp and binds his wrists above his head. His chain mail and clothing is stripped away. Gwaine gets pulled against him, his wrists are lashed together behind Lancelot’s back.

“You look good with your hands tied.” Gwaine is naked, hard and pressed right up against him but it’s his hushed words which send a hot pulse to Lancelot’s cock. When Gwaine rolls his hips and rubs them together, Lancelot moans softly because it makes Gwaine’s eyes darken. 

Then Lancelot feels the vines slide between his buttocks.

Those things aren’t Gwaine so he tries to jerk away. Smaller vines whip around his throat at a frightening speed and Lancelot hears a threatening hiss over Gwaine shouting his name.

He stills, only just able to breathe.

Things feel cold now but the plant keeps moving. When it spreads his buttocks the pull is harsh and a gasp jumps in his chest. 

“Keep your focus on me,” Gwaine instructs. He tugs his bound hands at Lancelot’s back to press their bodies together without a breath able to get between them. “Don’t fight. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m not afraid.”

He’s not. But he knows it will hurt. Gwaine once convinced him to try dry-fucking and Lancelot had almost passed out.

The vines press against Lancelot’s throat. Not enough to choke him but Lancelot still feels the threat. One more pull against the vines, they would tighten and he’d die. 

The roll of Gwaine’s hips makes it easier. Lancelot feels the heat throng between his legs again and lets his eyes slide shut. Smaller tendrils curl around his balls, shudder against him, start to wrap around the base of his erection. But Gwaine keeps moving, grinds them against each other even as the vines creep up to bind their cocks together.

The vines move up and down and pulse against them. When Gwaine kisses him, Lancelot feels his tongue push into his mouth and slides his own against it. Their tongues twist around each other and both groan, lost in it for a moment.

Gwaine’s body suddenly jolts and he groans painfully into Lancelot’s mouth. The vines around their cocks tighten and then quicken their movements. With the grasp still on his throat, Lancelot remains mostly still. But Gwaine twists and writhes against him, groans and cries out and so quickly becomes a hot quivering mess against him.

When the plant pushes up inside Lancelot, the vines are brutal in the way they almost stab their way into him, rough and fast, like it wants to tear him apart. He feels his screams surge in his chest but desperately bites them back, doesn’t want to do anything which will cause the vines around his neck to squeeze. 

Gwaine pants hard against his neck. His body thrusts into Lancelot as the vines drive into him. He seems to fight to keep his hips moving and their cocks rubbing together.

“Oh, _fuck!_ Lance-“ Gwaine presses his mouth against Lancelot’s jawline. And Lancelot can feel the vines which fuck his partner. They pulse, thrust and make Gwaine shudder as they slowly undo him.

Gwaine kisses him again, hard but brief, snatched between gasped breath and moans which are agony and ecstasy twisted together.

The vine inside him curls and Lancelot’s vision shatters.

“Ah! Fuck, that’s- _ah!_ ” Gwaine gasps for breath between hissed curses. He bucks his hips fiercely, grinds himself hard against Lancelot. 

The vine twists inside him again and Lancelot lets himself scream as his body breaks apart.

 

He wakes up on the forest floor. Gwaine is sprawled on top of him, asleep or unconscious.

A dull ache thuds in his body so Lancelot lies still as he looks around. The plant has retreated back into the undergrowth.

Lancelot finds his sword within arm’s reach. He’s also able to grasp his gambeson and drape it over his and Gwaine’s hips.

He needs to tell Merlin about that thing. Merlin will have the magic to get rid of it.

Lancelot lies back onto the forest floor, holds his weapon ready and draws Gwaine close as he waits for him to wake up.

* * *

**75.**

“I won't do it. He's barely off his mother's teat.”

Percival heard the crack of her whip before it struck against his chest.

“You really don't have much of a choice in the matter,” Morgana snapped, before she turned and left the ring.

Percival hardly remembered what it was like before. He had been a child when the first wave of plague went through and an adolescent when magic was blamed for the second wave. He steeled himself and approached the boy as the crowd gathered outside the ring began to jeer.

He was accustomed to the catcalls from Morgana's followers. When she had grown tired of watching him fight, she decided to use his body for a different sort of sport. And when she discovered he had a much easier time getting aroused for men, the game changed. 

Normally she tossed in a man with a physique similar to his, forcing them to fight for the choice of top or bottom position after. But this young man, this boy, Percival wondered what he had done to earn Morgana's wrath.

The young man was standing defiantly with his hands on his hips and his chin jutting out, although he, too, was covered in bleeding wounds from the whip lashes and bruises from Morgana's henchmen. 

Percival tried to imagine his tall but lanky frame filled out and his dark hair not bloody and matted. But it was the boy's lips—pursed in a pout, lush, and red—that finally got Percival's dick to react.

When he reached his destination, he went for those lips, grabbing the back of the boy's neck and bending down for a kiss. The boy didn't participate, but he didn't resist, allowing Percival his taste.

The angry on-lookers booed in response. They didn't want tenderness; they wanted a struggle. But their protests seem to spur the boy into action. He brought his hands up to Percival's chest as he stepped forward to deepen the kiss. 

The boy brushed his fingers across Percival's wounds, and Percival felt a tingle shoot through his body.

So the boy was magic, then. That would explain it. 

“Give the people what they want,” Morgana called out, cracking her whip in warning. “Take the boy.”

Percival wanted to reassure him, whoever the boy was, that in spite of his size, he would rather be gentle, would rather lavish attention on the boy's creamy skin. Instead, he grabbed him by the hips and turned him around quickly, making it appear more forceful than the actual gesture. 

“Now, now. Merlin here can take it. He can take it all. Can't you, Merlin?” Morgana sneered.

As she spoke, Percival slipped a finger down to the boy's hole. He, Merlin, was already loose and wet with oil. 

It was either give in now or they would both take another beating later. 

So Percival stroked his cock while he nudged Merlin's feet into a better position. When he was hard enough, he put an anchoring hand on the small of Merlin's back and pushed in hard. Merlin cried out, more in shock, it sounded, than pain. 

The crowd erupted in a cheer. 

Percival pulled out all the way and slammed in again. 

“Relax,” he whispered, hoping the boy would hear.

The third push was easier than the second, and the fourth still easier. Merlin seemed to give in, letting Percival use his body roughly. But then he started pushing back to meet each thrust and silencing his cries, so as not to give the audience fodder.

Percival tightened his grip on the boy's hips, fucking into him hard and steady, disgusted at himself that he was enjoying the act far more than he should, far more than he had before. Something primal in him was breaking and he wondered if there wasn't some flicker of magic at work. 

He grabbed the boy's hair and yanked, causing his back to arch in a graceful bow. 

Percival groaned at the sight. He was close, his hips seeming to move of their own volition as sweat dripped down his torso and onto the boy's pliant body.

Without thinking, Percival reached around, shocked to find that Merlin was hard and leaking. He started to pump Merlin's cock in spite of the crowd's protest.

As he felt the boy's channel clench around him, there was nothing else but the two of them in the ring, and he followed, succumbing to release.

* * *

**76.**

"I can't believe you went for that," Will muses afterwards, with a quiet chuckle. He's comfortably naked in a way Merlin envies, arms crossed behind his head and trousers gaping open around his hips.

They're laying side-by-side up in the hayloft, on the cool pile of straw in the corner that's served as their makeshift bed more and more frequently these past few weeks.

"Hmm?" Merlin hums. "Went for what?" It's hard to sound cross when his cock is still twitching happily against his belly.

"My act!" Will grins, jabbing an elbow into his side. "Or do you honestly believe your seed has magical healing powers?" His smirk vanishes with one look at Merlin's puzzled features. "Shite," he says, sheepishly.

Merlin's sex-addled brain struggles to catch up. "Wait. You mean--" He trails off, eyes widening. "Oh bugger," he moans, and rolls onto his side, facing away from Will to hide a rapidly-spreading flush. "I'm such an idiot."

"I thought you knew." Will's torn between annoyance and concern. "And you were just playing along, playing innocent, y'know? I had no idea you were naive enough to actually _believe_ in sex pollen."

Merlin grits his teeth. Suddenly he's acutely aware of his nakedness, his long pasty limbs and exposed bum, and whirls on Will. "You made it sound like you were bloody well going to die if we didn't fuck, Will! Sorry I was too busy trying to shoot magical healing sperm to question whether sex pollen was real or not." He's pleased to see a flicker of guilt in Will's eyes.

"...Sorry, mate. You can't tell me you didn't like it, though, having me helpless and randy and begging for it." Will’s grin is shit-eating.. "I saw your face."

Merlin pushes to his feet with a disgusted, dismissive noise. Will makes a grab at him, but Merlin jerks away. Failing that, Will sits up on his elbows to watch as Merlin collects his clothing, enjoying a perfect view of his ass as he bends to pull up his trousers and retrieve his neckerchief. 

"I was just trying to mix things up," Will explains, as a shirtless Merlin turns to face him. He catches a glimpse of thick white cum, _his_ cum, dripping from Merlin's bum and his mouth goes dry.

"Well if I'd known you were going to use my magic as the butt of a stupid practical joke, I'd never have told you about it to begin with,” Merlin replies coldly, whilst angrily knotting the red scrap of fabric around his throat.

Will swallows, trying very hard not drop his gaze to the cum inching down Merlin’s thigh, watching his willowy fingers instead—fingers Merlin twisted up inside his hole, fingers Merlin rocked on until he was open enough for Will to take him, fill him. He can't help it; his cock throbs and he whimpers slightly, though he'd never admit to it. 

Merlin's brow furrows. "And you're getting off on what, exactly?"

" _You,_ " Will snaps, reaching inside and extracting his cock to jerk himself with quick pulls. "You're still all wet, stretched open and leaking my essence. What I wouldn't give to take you again, fill up that pretty bum of yours till my bollocks are empty. Maybe I'll make you a cork, yeah? Stop up that pretty little arsehole so you can carry me around inside all day, and at night I'll fuck it all right back out of you."

"That's _filthy,_ " Merlin complains, but his traitorous cock twitches in interest.

"And you love it," Will notices, stilling his hand. "You don't want to, but you do. There's no shame in liking my talk, just as there's no shame in liking men or having magic. So stop denying yourself... you'll be much less miserable." He pats the straw. "Come lie with me again while we have time, since I expect your mum'll be sendin' you away any day now. Down on your knees and I'll make it up to you," Will promises.

Hearing it put like that, Merlin really can't say no. He lets his trousers drop and crawls onto the straw. Will settles between his legs and nudges them apart, cupping his buttocks and spreading them. Merlin tenses at the feel of hot breath against the inside of his thighs. “What—” he begins.

Will steadies him."A little something to remember on lonely nights in Camelot." He chuckles, thrusting his tongue out and plunging it inside Merlin's leaking pucker.


	8. Group D (clean)

* * *

**77.**

**Summary:** On the Island of Avalon, breeding magic-borns was the only way to survive.

* * *

**78.**

* * *

**79.**

_When Arthur heard of the situation, he didn't care whether neither of them actually wanted to do it, just that Merlin would survive the wild that is his magic. And deep inside, Arthur knew that Merlin's unwillingness to hurt him would always do more damage to the younger man than Arthur ever would have by making this sacrifice. It was his time to be Merlin's support through the night._

* * *

**80.**

* * *

**81.**

* * *

**82.**

Summary: Merlin likes to start the day feeling relaxed. Arthur likes to go in hard. All in a day's work.

* * *

**83.**

Sacrificial sex in Silent Hill with Morgana as member of The Order.

* * *

**84.**

* * *

**85.**

Merlin needs to access all his power to save Albion from the End. The Once and Future King is the vessel.

* * *

**86.**

Morgana decides watching Gwaine fight for her amusement isn't fun enough. She thinks of something else.

* * *

**87.**

There are customary ways to "heal" a zombie bite wound and then there is Merlin's. And he definitely knows how he wants to get paid.

* * *

**88.**

* * *

**89.**


End file.
